


All You Need Is Love

by Background_Foxe



Series: God Knows [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bickering, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Breathplay, Figging, First Time, Flogging, M/M, Masturbation, Restraints, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Foxe/pseuds/Background_Foxe
Summary: The Winchester boys fall for a deal set up by the Trickster and end up with a task that is significantly more erotic than they’d prefer. Still, what’s a little forced incest compared to their usual activities in their line of work, and how difficult could it really be?Set around season 2 ish
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: God Knows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890439
Comments: 19
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

“So you gonna tell us or what?”

The words were hard, demanding and with just a touch of that nervous panic that added a touch of spice to everything. The Trickster smiled to himself and poured himself a glass of water with deliberate slowness, as though the act was some type of worship in itself. Perhaps it was, in a way. The ocean had more than its fair share of gods, rituals and sacrifice, and was still a bad tempered bitch at the end of it. His own line of work as a demi-god was nothing in comparison, although probably more fun.

“I’m thinking over the fine details,” The Trickster replied calmly to this little outburst. 

“Like fuck you are!” Apparently patience was in short supply, most likely fueled from the hatred that one had when suddenly finding themselves outmatched in an accidental game of chance. And this, friends and neighbours, was why children really shouldn’t gamble until they were mature enough.

The current said child in front of him was one Dean Winchester, the louder one out of the pair of siblings, and the one who was already struggling with the concept of politeness. The Trickster studied him with the long, patient thoughtfulness that came with someone who knew he had all the time in the world to savour such a moment, and took another slow sip of water.

And dear lord, he was planning to savour this moment. It was a minor miracle really. The Trickster hadn’t put much faith on the plan working, but apparently the personalities were distracted and the stars aligned, and now he was owed a task from a pair of baby hunters who had already started to interfere with his day to day business. Supporting the youth of today was all very well, but there was a limit.

Said youth of today was scowling at him with all the ferocity of a small boy defending his teddy bear. The Trickster eyed him thoughtfully. A good looking boy, although one who had been somewhat spoiled from knowing that fact and whose mannerisms might well have been improved had he been subject to a few more spankings earlier in his life. He possessed the usual strong frame that spoke of someone who relied a little too heavily on physical force for day to day life, some flashing dirty green eyes, and had a sulky mouth that was currently turned down in an even sulkier shape which the Trickster hadn’t realised was even humanly possible. One of the boy’s hands was curled into a tight fist and the other.. Well, he wasn’t sure where the other hand had vanished to but Winchester No. 1 was probably clutching some sort of supernatural defensive trinket. The Winchesters had a bad habit of that.

Despite his predicament, Winchester No.1 was also not planning to stop talking.

“You know exactly what you want us to do for this thing.” he snapped. “Just spit it out and let’s get the damned thing over with,”

As though the boy had any control over this situation whatsoever. The Trickster smiled to himself. The tone was so perfectly sharp, impatient, and yet the panic was still buried deep in there like some emotional sweetie just ripe for the picking. Beautiful, really. 

Of course he knew very well what the boy’s fear was going to be related to, and that was Winchester No.2, the taller, silent one who was favouring a more uncertain, slightly puppy dog eyes expression at their current state of affairs. The Trickster turned his attention to said boy in interest. Ah yes. Sam Winchester, the apparent baby of the family with mournful eyes and floppy hair, although the Trickster would have been more willing to believe the little boy boy look had he not personally witnessed the burning fury whenever said Winchester allowed his bottled up anger to burst from its container. But that was often the way with those people who were guided by ‘doing the right thing’ and other righteous taglines. There was only so much nice someone could take before the other side of the personality showed up, and with Sam that other side often had the force of a nuclear bomb.

All in all, they were a walking soap opera, and the Trickster had a whole lot of popcorn to get through. Immortality was hard; you had to find entertainment where it presented itself.

He relaxed back in his chair and turned back to the conversation in hand.

“Perhaps. Truth be told I have a reasonable idea of your half of the deal, but I have to confess I hadn’t expected the situation to work quite as well as it had. You’ll have to give me a few moments to work out the finer details of our little ..,” the Trickster ran his tongue over his bottom lip lazily and then offered a smooth grin. “..arrangement.”

If people were rockets then Dean probably would have reached Jupiter by now. The Trickster watched in interest as the kid’s fist tightened even harder, strong enough that he could witness the whiteness of his knuckles and know that the short nails were almost certainly digging into the flesh of the palm. Yes, the pair of them really could benefit from some type of anger management classes, they’d probably both be ready for heart attacks before they were forty. 

“Then let us know what your ‘reasonable idea’ is,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. “And we’ll take it from there.”

“But we’re not going to kill anyone,” Sam had finally entered the conversation, his voice leaning toward the ‘worried’ side of the emotional range. It was an odd version of good cop, bad cop, a perfect balance to ensure that Dean’s outbursts were never quite enough to get them both killed immediately. 

“Now that is something that should have been agreed in the terms and conditions before we started,” the Trickster replied reproachfully, but flashed them another pleased grin. “However, no, I’m not really in the homicidal mood. The pair of you get yourself in enough trouble with bodies on a day to day basis without me needing to add to it.”

He picked up the glass of water and slowly sipped it, eyes still trained on the men in front of him.

“No, I was thinking of a more _unusual_ task for you. Something we don’t normally see, something a little different than your usual line of work. Something interesting. Something _fun_.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, as well they might. 

“Like?” he was still speaking through gritted teeth. The Trickster hoped the boy had a decent dentist on hand, that was bound to be bad for his molars. 

“Well..,” he deliberately swirled the water in the glass delicately, watching the liquid glitter in the light of the room and enjoying feasting on the sibling’s anxiety before raising his gaze to meet the others again. “.. I’d really like to get to know you boys. You know. More _personally._ ”

A long silence met this from two boys who were clearly trying to understand the subtext. Sam’s eyebrow had raised quizzically and had darted cautiously toward his elder brother, whose expression had started off at ‘dark’ and was getting into full blown black hole territory. Now _this_ was the type of task the Trickster enjoyed, and the Winchesters were perfect specimens. They were always so expressive, both of them, a wonderful world of bickering and domestic needs and obligations and desires and weirder stuff that even the Trickster hadn’t quite worked out. 

Still, they were also a monumental pain in the ass, and if he didn’t discourage them from this irritating habit of involving themselves in his business then they’d probably be popping up for the next few years until some sort of death finally caught up with them. Even then the Trickster didn’t put it past them for having some sort of irritating ghost; if anyone was going to have a dissatisfied spirit then it was the Winchester boys.

“Meaning?” That was Dean again, the word so much of a snarl that it wasn’t quite legible. Not that the Trickster needed perfect diction to understand Dean; subtly was certainly not his nature, or even in the child’s vocabulary. 

The water was sipped again delicately. Oh, this was a perfect situation, it really was. Thanks to some careful misdirection the pair had entered into a .. well, a dare really, but a deal was close enough, and by getting their focus on a completely different aspect they had failed to notice the contract they had fallen into until every last loophole was closed. That was often the key to opponents like the Winchesters; give them a Big Bad to fight and they didn’t seem to notice the smaller but significant attacks occurring in the rear until it was too late. Noble but foolish, but then most of his enjoyment came from that root. The Winchesters were nothing unusual in that regard.

Of course, the Winchesters were very unusual for who they were. Both had a background in weird fucked up shit, and their future wasn’t looking much different. Same shit, different day. They were, however, linked up to all manner of different and often dangerous supernatural entities, and that had an increasing risk of such folk interfering in his own work.

Yes, this was a definite opportunity, but how to play it? The Trickster chewed on his lip thoughtfully. Couldn’t kill them, too messy. Couldn’t beat them, they seemed to thrive on pain and suffering in a manner that the Trickster didn’t really want to think about, and besides which, that was a _noble_ type of torture, for lack of a better word. Scars from that could be shown off with pride later on, in the same way as a surfer could show off the bite marks from some Jaws wanna-be. If it was something that Batman could use in a mean and moody monologue that made him look even more mean and moody and tortured then it was definitely not going to be the right option.

No, he wanted them to remember this. Wanted it to be burned into their minds, but it had to be _right_. No physical crippling. No torturing that could be manfully confessed late at night to someone who would look both impressed and sympathetic. Nothing that could be dismissed as business as usual, or even discussed at all other than hushed whispers. And, naturally, it had to be entertaining. 

Thankfully the Winchester boys had already provided their own method of payment, and the Trickster could taste the sweetness already.

“Love.” he announced brightly.

This apparently was not what either of them were expecting to hear.

“... what?” Sam frowned uncertainly.

“Love. If you can’t go with hate, then you have to go with love.”

There was another long silence that had a very strong hint of bafflement. Dean frowned and shot his brother a side look just in case Sam knew what was going on, but from the bewildered look on the younger man’s face it was clear that he was completely at a loss as well.

“You want us to ..love? Love what?” Dean looked like a man who had been expecting a frontal assault and now suddenly found himself with tunnels. The Trickster readjusted his position on the chair and looked at them happily.

“Each other.” he looked between the pair brightly. “To pay your debt in my little deal, I want to see love between you.”

“Uh..,” Sam looked even more uncertain. Dean frowned a little more, then snorted.

“We’re brothers. We love each other throughout, been together through thick and thin, as you know. What d’you want us to do, buy an appropriate Hallmark card? Some sort of moving speech?”

“Uh, Dean..,”

“No, no, Sammy, this is crazy. How do you measure ‘love’, exactly?” Dean waved a hand. “This isn’t a task! Granted, it’s nice not needing some sort of knife or a gun or whatever, but still, a bit of clarification wouldn’t go amiss here,”

“...Dean,” Sam’s voice was weak.

“Nah, you’re gonna have to give us some sort of detail, I don’t want to end up missing something and then you come and reclaim your dues when we’re up to our eyeballs in demons or werewolves! Or give us some sort of paperwork, I guess,” Dean frowned a little harder in his thoughts towards appropriate contracts. Sam offered the Trickster a small smile and based on the sudden jolt in Dean’s position, had firmly slammed his foot onto Dean’s. There was a grunt and a furious look.

“ _What?!_ ”

A beautiful light flush had risen to Sam’s cheeks and apparently was planning to stick around for a while. “Uh. I think there’s probably a task in this.” there was a meaningful pause. “A _physical_ one.”

Oh, he was a bright boy was little Sammy. The Trickster smiled approvingly, and was even more pleased when the flush darkened. Beautiful. Just went to show you didn’t need sharp pointy things to make people squirm. Dean stared at his brother with incomprehension.

“... like?”

Their eyes met for a moment. Sam coughed softly and then looked away. The frown lines slowly cleared from Dean’s brow, before he gave a soft laugh of disbelief.

“Jesus, Sammy, your mind’s more in the gutter than mine is! Of course he doesn’t mean-,”

There was a long, long pause. 

“... you _don’t_ mean..,” Dean tried to clarify and failed with discussing the rest of the sentence. The Trickster sipped his glass of water again and gave a bright smile. The older Winchester boy was now looking a little sick.

“... you want us to…?” there was a little waving of the finger between Dean and Sam, and the voice had switched from angry righteousness to uncertain little boy, and good god, that was music to his ears. The Trickster waited to see whether any more words would turn up but apparently they were both feeling a little vocabulary light today. Sam looked as though someone had put a frog in his sandwich, and there was a very odd colour to Dean’s skin. 

So beautiful.

“If by,” he mimicked the elder Winchester’s hand gesture. “ you mean have physical relations … fucking, by your language .. with your brother, then the answer is yes.”

The colour of the boy’s skin didn’t improve. In fact, the Trickster wondered whether he should obtain a bucket to avoid unnecessary stains on his carpet. Dean’s mouth opened, failed to find any words and then shut again uncertainly. Sam on the other hand seemed to be taking it slightly better, although based on past experience the Trickster suspected that was down to the younger boy being able to disassociate it into a problem to solve rather than a personal activity.

“.. you want us to do that _now_?” Sam’s voice was doubtful.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Let’s be realistic. People have performance anxiety at the best of time without the added problem of threats and audiences and other such things. No, Iet’s say within.. I don’t know, a couple of weeks. You two can take that,” the Trickster moved a small wooden box toward the edge of his desk where the pair of them eyed it warily. “And it’ll kick into recording whenever things get interesting. It’ll take a few days for the chemicals to really get going anyway.”

“Chemicals?” Sam repeated slowly, and the Trickster noticed the boy had stepped a little closer and slightly to one side as though trying to protect the elder brother with his own body. Awww. Say what you want about the Winchesters - and dear lord, the word on the supernatural street was pretty robust - but they were very adorable. Little psychotic care bears, with added silver.

“Well, yes. I’m pretty sure that if either of you had any real urge for sexual fun with the other you’d probably have done it well before now, probably in that teenage exploration period. I mean, you’re bisexual and quite frankly a sexual deviant anyway,” he nodded to Sam, who suddenly took the look of a bunny in headlights, before turning his attention to Dean. “And you’ve got a ridiculously high sex drive and enjoy anal sensations to the extent that you asked that girl Rachel Devonshire to-,”

“Okay, you can stop there _right now_.” Dean’s voice was quicker than a bullet from a gun, words hard, sharp and clearly panicked. The Trickster held up his hands in mock defeat before settling back on his chair.

“I neither can or want to change personalities, but what I can do is _influence_. Drink and drugs mostly increase whatever was there in the beginning in some way, and most of the brain chemicals are pretty similar. I don’t want you to martyr yourselves out and manufacture justifications. I want you to do something like this, _like it_ and then feel tormented for the rest of your lives that my threats were only an excuse for what you did.” his calm eyes looked between the Winchesters cheerfully. Dean was going back to the sick look. Sam was studiously trying not to look at his brother with a determination that could win olympic medals.

“So,” the Trickster continued. “I’ve given you both a little biological boost when it comes to your brother. You’ll both react to each other in the same way as you would with someone you really find attractive, and this should hopefully get around the little performance issue. Either that or we buy a significant amount of Viagra, and although that’ll improve my shareholder stakes in that business that’s not going to improve the imagination at all, is it?”

There was a very solid silence from the pair that was heavy enough to dent iron.

“Now, I’m not a massive fan of monologuing, but in the absence of the usual ‘you’ll never get away with this’ arguments I’ll give it a try. First of all, terms and conditions. You know the fee if you decide not to carry this out - seven years of bad luck for this town - and you should also be aware of how many injuries, deaths and other horrible things are linked to luck. Things would get very, very messy. Accidents. Wear and tear at just the wrong moments. Odds of complications or genetic issues suddenly through the roof. The cable cutting out just at the point of a cliffhanger on tv. Terrible business, terrible. You’ll probably see the latest more inventive issue every time you switch on the tv or read a paper. Wouldn’t advise that, definitely not.” there was a soft tsk of a noise through his teeth.

“ We can consider your task completed with at least one full penetration activity with both of you reaching orgasm.” the Trickster started ticking them off on his fingers. “To ensure at least a bit of excitement, I want at least five different experiences that preferably neither of you have done before-,”

“Five?” Dean croaked. “That’s fucking ridiculous. One new thing.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

They eyed each other, then Dean sighed and the Trickster shrugged. 

“Three.” they agreed, one more cheerfully than the other. The Trickster moved onto the next finger.

“You will have the little box in whichever room you choose, although it can be discreetly put somewhere, it’ll record wherever and even with things in the way.” Tick. “You both need to be active in this as well. The bottom can’t just lie back and take it, we need a bit of participation.”

“Why are you looking at me with that bit?” Dean protested. 

“Can’t imagine.” The Trickster replied mildly. “And once you’ve achieved your goal then the box will go a sort of shiny pink colour. It will be fair, I can promise you that. No tricks. Do the work and the town is released and we’ll both go our own ways, although my way will be safe in the knowledge that should you decide to interfere again then certain .. uh, _clips_ will be working their way to everyone who knows you.”

“All of this is just some sort of elaborate blackmail attempt?” Sam spoke up incredulously.

“No, most of this is just plain fun, plus a few other magical bits and pieces. The blackmail is just an additional cherry on the cake,” the Trickster looked between them happily. “So, do you understand?”

The silence was reluctant but suggested acknowledgement. The Trickster lifted an eyebrow.

“Well?” his voice added a little extra steel.

“Yeah.” Dean growled back finally.

“We understand.” Sam was a little more eloquent but the politeness failed to remove the clipped tension under the words.

“Good boys. Well, this should be _fun_. I look forward to your work.”

And oh, he really, _really_ was.

*

“Since when have you been bisexual?!”

They’d only just started the car journey back, and Sam’s stomach was churning already. But no, apparently nothing was going to keep Dean quiet for too long. He’d known that, of course. Dean was all fight whenever he felt vulnerable, and if he couldn’t physically punch something then an argument would have to do.

Sam sighed softly and stared out the window at the darkened landscape for a moment.

“Is that really the question you want to focus on right now?” he asked, as mild as he could.

“So that’s a yes?” 

“Does it matter?” Sam was still watching the outside world, his eyes tracking a lamppost as it sailed past.

“You’re my brother. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean’s voice was already a little raw, almost as raw as his hand that Sam had noticed had managed to gain some blood from where nails had entered into skin. Sam sighed softly again, and tipped his head back against the headrest.

“I guess it never came up.” he answered truthfully. “And anyway, bisexual is probably pushing it. Hetro-flexible, perhaps.”

“I have no idea what that is. So you just fancy men every so often?”

“Not even that, really. Back when I was around nineteen, I just .. I don’t know, messed around with a couple of guy friends I knew. We were all pretty frustrated, a bit drunk, and things occurred. Nothing too exciting. Since then I’ve occasionally had a few leanings towards it, but mostly it’s girls.”

There was a dark, heavy and pretty threatening silence.

“Did they fuck you?” Dean growled finally, eyes still trained ahead on the road.

“Jesus Christ, Dean, no,” Sam was faintly appalled and beginning to feel the edges of anger. This was a crazy time for an argument on absolutely nothing at all, and more the point this was _his_ sex life. He never asked Dean about his adventures other than what the man wanted to offer; the fact his brother couldn’t possibly let things go was annoying as hell. Well, okay, hell was generally more annoying, but it was still pretty irritating. 

“I’ll kill them if they did things you didn’t want,” 

Oh. Protective brother thing again. Sam closed his eyes wearily. “I wanted it.”

“Did you ask them?” Dean demanded.

“I wouldn't have been able to know what to ask even if I did. We were all working on an adhoc basis. Dean, I know you’re surprised,” that was the polite term for it. “But seriously, _drop it_. No one forced me, no one made me do anything. I tried stuff out, and to be honest I enjoyed it. My ass is untouched, although,” he added pointedly. “It sounds like you can’t claim the same for your own.”

A flash of angry green eyes aimed themselves at him at that comment, before Dean stared back at the road furiously. Sam could see the clenched jaw and tension in his brother’s shoulders and sighed internally. To some extent the concern was nice, but sometimes he wondered whether Dean ever thought of him as someone over the age of 13. 

“Just to confirm, I don’t care whether you’ve been fucked with a strap on.” Sam added, feeling a small touch of guilt but seriously wanting him off his back. There was a swerve as that comment almost crashed the car, before Dean firmly and pointedly swung his hand and punched Sam squarely in the bicep.

“Ow, fuck, Dean!” 

“Seriously. Shut up.”

“But it’s okay to drag through my sexual life though? Look, I don’t even care if you like to dress up as a bunny and fuck people- actually, no, that would be a little on the weird side even for you, and I’d really worry about your cleaning bills, but come on, Dean. We’re both adults, and life is shit on many levels. If we can find something that makes us happy, even for a short time, let’s just grab it.”

Dean’s jaw gritted a little more. “Nice speech.”

“Jesus, you’re a jerk sometimes.”

“So I keep hearing.” 

On the other hand, at least the conversation had cut off. Sam welcomed the peace. Sure, Dean was almost certainly stewing in his own mind, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his posture so rigid that it could teach skyscrapers a few tricks, but Sam had long learned not to get in the way of that natural process. They travelled a few more miles in silence before Dean finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this.”

Sam stayed silent. That this was not on their things to do list was a natural given, but Dean’s voice betrayed his worry. Finally Sam softly sighed.

“I’ve tried finding ways out of it. It’s too dangerous. If one of us was going to die or be seriously injured or whatever then sure, we find a way, but this.. I don’t know, Dean. It might be easier just to do it.”

“I’m not hurting you.” Dean said fiercely. “I refuse. No way.”

Which was also a given, but that left only one real choice if they had any chance of completing the idiotic task they had been set. Sam chewed on his bottom lip and focused on the window, one foot tapping lightly as his mind raced through possibilities and impacts and horrors and, embarrassingly, some almost pornographic images that just flashed in his head and then stuck around like a bad smell before he managed to get rid of them. No, this was not going to be pleasant.

“How true was it that you .. uh… ,” Sam tried to find a polite way to put it and failed miserably, stumbling around some vocab choices. There was a rueful lopsided smile from Dean.

“That I like ass play?” 

“Um. Well. Yes. Uh,” Jesus, this felt wrong. Sam winced. “Sorry.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly a conversation I thought I’d ever have with you, but as you say, life’s shit.” Dean continued to stare ahead, although Sam was relieved to note that his brother’s voice was relatively relaxed. “I guess it’s true enough, although like you it’s not something I do on a regular basis. Right person, right time, right mood, you know?”

“And right equipment, I assume.”

Dean laughed softly. “Ah, I’ve never been fucked with a strap on, before you get some interesting images. That’s far too much preparation and planning.”

Sam thought about that for a moment, and discovered that he wasn’t quite as successful at getting rid of the porno images as he had originally hoped for. Fuck. This was going to be a long two weeks.

“Then what..?” Was he pushing his luck? Probably. But if he was genuinely going to need to do something to Dean then knowing past experiences was going to help. Or at least that was the excuse he was giving himself, anyway. Nosiness was also a major part. As was that imagery that was still showing up in his head like an unwanted film, and a cold shower was definitely going to be occurring that night before he drove himself nuts.

Dean glanced at him, surprised, then made a soft ‘pft’ noise through his teeth and returned to the road.

“You want the full dirty details?” he drawled. “And there was me thinking you were the sweeter one of us. Perhaps that demi-god got it right when he called you a sexual deviant.”

“It’s for research.” Sam landed on the only thing he could think of.

“Fuck off.” Dean replied idly, then huffed another little laugh that wasn’t quite connected to humour. “Fine, whatever. What do we do? Well… we use mostly fingers, and that’s during other activities rather than a focus. You know, really light, sensations, that sort of thing. And a small vibrator dildo whatsit once or twice, but I kept having images of those x-rays that turn up in ERs where someone’s got something fucking embarrassing stuck up their ass and the girl was a bit too enthusiastic getting further in.” Dean paused, then shrugged a little helplessly. “Dunno what to tell you, feels good. Like I’m being stroked in a whole new way.”

“Oh.”

Another small side glance. “That enough for your ‘research’?” the words were pointed. Sam flushed.

“It’s enough.” he confirmed hastily. Dean snorted.

“Good.”

There was a more companionable silence for a few more miles before Sam shifted in his seat a little more. These images in his head were a pain. A genuine pain, there was a low ache in him that was generally odd; wasn’t quite arousal, wasn’t a cramp, just something in him that was determined to make him uncomfortable and twitchy. 

“Got itching powder in your pants?” Dean queried after a moment.

“Sorry. Just ..,” Sam hesitated, not sure where to take that one. “... restless,” he finished, a little lamely.

“Yeah, you’re gonna start damaging the leatherwork. Cut it out, Squirmy.” Dean’s eyes were back ahead once more. There was a pause before he continued. “Gonna need you to have a better control over your body if you’re gonna fuck me.”

It was just as well Dean was driving otherwise Sam probably would have driven off the road. He opened his mouth to speak, found a distinct lack of words and had to hesitate instead.

“... uh, duly noted.” he finished weakly.

Another silence. Sam was pretty sure Dean had also been waiting to see where that comment would take them, uncertainty filling the car like a weird type of gas. Finally Sam sighed through his teeth and closed his eyes again.

“So, you’re okay with me .. well, being the one on top?” Better to grab the bull by the horns before it quite literally hit them in the ass.

“Okay? No. Tolerate? Well, what choice have we got?” Dean’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel in a little fidgeting manner. “I’m not hurting you, and that means it’s got to be me taking it.”

“I guess.” Sam winced slightly. “I mean, I don’t mind doing it if you want-,”

Dean gave him a weird look. “Really?”

“Well, okay, ‘don’t mind’ is probably not the right way to say that..,” Sam added hastily. “But it’s an option. I don’t want to hurt you either.”

Dean made another ‘pft’ noise of amusement. Sam felt a familiar glower enter his bones. Sometimes his brother could be infuriating. 

“I don’t.” he said a little stronger. “You don’t have to protect me all the time.”

“Sam, I am not raping my own brother.” Dean spoke as though he was speaking to a particularly slow child.

“But you’re happy for me to rape you?” Sam countered immediately. “Don’t do this, Dean. You stress it like that and .. well, it’s going to make it even damned harder than it was before.”

“As the bishop said to the actress,” Dean said automatically, then gave Sam another little side look before sighing. “Yeah, okay, I get your point. Sorry. And you know I don’t put any blame on you for this.”

“Yeah. I know.” Sam said glumly. Dean gave him a quick look and then back on the road.

“Silly question, you’ve done anal before, yeah? With either sex.”

Sam rolled his eyes and then glanced out the window. “Couple of times. You?”

“Same. Not really something you spring on someone for a one off, y’know?” Dean shrugged. “And I never have any lube in.”

“Mm.” Sam was unsurprised about Dean’s lack of supplies. He chewed on his lip as he watched the passing world again. “Do you know what we’d do for the ‘not tried before’ thing?”

“I’m thinking most of the stuff is probably going to be uncharted territories,” Dean replied drily. Sam shook his head slightly.

“That may be, but it’s probably got to be something .. I don’t know. Tick box worthy.”

“This for the weird purple box who’s going to be watching us?” 

“Well, yeah. There’s no point in doing half a million things if none of them are sufficient enough by themselves.” Sam frowned slightly. “Take fingering, for example. That would probably be part of the standard process.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Dean drawled.

“I guess there’s always oral-,”

Apparently that was the comment that was enough to get almost driven off the road. Dean came to a screeching halt, and stared at him, a little wild eyed and definitely rattled. A finger waved itself in Sam’s direction as though this might in some way get him to stop.

“No.” He hesitated and then decided to repeat it, just in case. “ _No._ ” 

Sam blinked. Okay, it was definitely fucked up but he hadn’t really considered it to be that much more horrendous than some of the other options. But no, Dean looked almost scared. 

“Uh. I’m not going to bite you..,”

“Fuck sake, Sammy, _no_.” 

Well, this was an unexpected confusion in a day of weirdness. Sam pulled a face, trying to work out the explanation before Dean let out a shaky breath and fixed him with another firm look. Sam recognised the one that Dean tried to use when they were kids and he was trying to ‘lay down the law’. Rarely worked then, either.

“Please. Just no.”

“... okay.” Sam still had no idea what was going on but his brother was anxious and promising that oral sex was off the menu was a small price to pay. Still, it was a shame, in a very weird way. Oral was pretty easy to do, no danger of harming anyone and was a definite tick box activity that could be done by either one of them.

He paused, and rewound that series of thoughts. And to think he had woken up that morning thinking that things couldn’t possibly get any odder.

“We’ll find something to do.” Sam tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters. Dean shifted his weight and started the car again, pulling back onto the thankfully empty road and continuing. Still looked rattled though. Sam groaned internally. Yeah, this was going to be a very long two weeks.

*

Apparently chemicals were to blame for his head, and Dean was getting fucked off at it. Pacing only did so much, back and forth, back and forth, like an addict trying to ignore a drug withdrawal or a smoker ignore a pack of cigarettes on the table, and still it didn’t help. Sam had tried suggesting taking his mind off it and focus on anything else, but apparently there weren’t many things that could compete with the sexual images his mind had decided to conjure up.

Dean growled in the back of his throat and ran his hand through his hair as he paced a little more. Fucking hell, he hadn’t been this bad since high school; he’d jerked off a couple of times that morning already but this hadn’t been enough to calm himself down. His groin was hot and aching, his erection hard and pressed uncomfortably into his jeans, and there were even some weird ticklish sensations between his legs that just meant that he was conscious of his ass. 

He didn’t need a cold shower, he needed to be plunged into the middle of the Antarctic with nothing more than underwear on. Then eaten by a killer whale. And even then Dean wasn’t sure whether that would take his mind off it.

The images had started pretty soon after the Trickster Bastard had outlined their New and Improved Hell (™), softly at first but with growing intensity and a whole heap of imagination. Society warned about watching a lot of porn but no one warned you that was due to the sheer number of Friendly Suggestions for your own personal erotic ticklist. And Dean had hundreds. _Hundreds_.

The door to the motel room opened to highlight the current focus of all his erotic dreams, a worried look on Sam’s face as he stepped through the door and surveyed the current mess known as his brother. 

“You okay?” Sam asked carefully as he stepped forward and put the paper bag with the food on the table.

Dean growled through his teeth. “Do I _look_ okay?”

“You look terrible, but you know what I mean,” Sam frowned. He stepped forward in an attempt to gently touch Dean on the shoulder but touch was definitely not going to help; Dean all but yelped and darted back, trying to put a chair between them. And fuck, fuck, fuck, his groin was aching like a bastard, and all he could think of was to grab hold of Sam and-

Dean closed his eyes and genuinely considered knocking himself out by smashing his head into a wall.

“Nothing’s helping.” he said miserably. “Nothing. Porn, touching, exercise, mind games in the paper, nothing.”

Sam looked awkward and ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he thought of what to say, and fuck, now Dean was really, really conscious of Sam’s mouth and his tongue and his kisses and his scent and his-

Argggh!

He started pacing again, back and forth, trying to ignore his worried brother who was still watching him. Sam’s chemical boost had hit a little earlier and although he also seemed to be incapable of sitting still in a chair, the whole thing had died off after about four hours; Sam had mentioned something about images and sexual thoughts but it was in his usual throwaway voice as though he had far too much to do in order to worry about that. Dean was now pretty sure his darling younger brother had been lying through his teeth when he said it was ‘nothing’. Damned well explained the flushed cheeks and the far away look he developed every so often. Dean was now regretting teasing him by bending over to grab a can of soda and deliberately showing off his ass, but how the hell could he have known it would be this bad?!

Sam would have made a good lawyer, his lying skills were fucking fantastic.

And speaking of fucking fantastic…

Dean groaned again and clutched his head as he continued to pace, but that wasn’t the actual head he wanted to grab. There was hard and then there was ice-pick hard; his dick was so damned sensitive that every movement just jolted another sensation through him, and nothing - _nothing_ \- was giving him any relief. He’d probably flay the skin off his cock before even feeling a slight touch of relief, which was a horrible thought.

“Dean,” Sam was speaking and fuck, that wasn’t helping either. His brother had a husky low tone at the best of times and Dean had never really appreciated how erotic it could sound. Now he had images of Sam whispering things in his ear, murmuring to him, crying out in pleasure, telling him all the things that he wanted to do to him or indeed, what Dean should be doing to Sam and -

Just as well he had hidden all the guns otherwise this would have produced the most peculiar suicide note ever.

“Dean..,”

“Fuck sake, Sammy, just leave me alone!” Dean felt as though he was going to drown in sweat, despite the fact that he wasn’t that clammy; his skin felt flushed and his breathing quickier, and quite clearly his subconscious was talking to bits of him he couldn’t even hear. 

Dean’s attention was drawn back from a very vivid image of grabbing hold of Sam, ripping off his jeans and bending him across a table by the real life image of Sam calmly taking hold of the wooden box and placing it on said table. Dean stared at it as though he’d never seen it before in his life, before raising his eyes to Sam in a nervous question. Oh. Oh, no. No, not ready, not anywhere _near_ ready, and yet..

Fuck, he hated his body.

“We could take the opportunity.” Sam said in a low voice. “You need it. I know how hard it can hit. Just grab the insanity and go with it for a bit, might be able to tick off at least one of the boxes? And it’ll probably cool you down,”

“No.” Dean’s voice was unhappily shaky. “I can’t.”

Oh, but he could, and that was what hurt the most. It was his morals holding him back, morals and guilt, and without any of that he knew he’d happily jump into whatever crazy suggestion his brother was going to make.

His _brother_. Family was everything, but there was a limit.

Dean closed his eyes and groaned softly, before opening them again and refixing his gaze on Sam’s uncertain expression looking at him from behind some strands of brown hair that had flopped across his brother’s face. He felt another stab of desire, only it wasn’t desire - he knew the feeling of lust well enough. No, this was a longing that had a whole deeper feel to it, need attached to love, and that made him feel like the filthiest pervert ever.

Brother. _Brother_. Fuck’s sake.

But what else were they going to do? Wait for a candlelit dinner moment?

“Okay.” Sam said softly, scanning Dean’s eyes just in case something weirder happened. “We can do it a bit later, and-,”

The end of the sentence was killed dead as Dean pushed himself forward determinedly and grabbed hold of Sam’s head, bringing their mouths together for a completely ungraceful, messy and slightly painful kiss. Only it was fucking glorious, and Dean almost came immediately - which was damned embarrassing - as he deepened the kiss with a rough demand. Sam was apparently up for the challenge, the few seconds of frozen uncertainty turning swiftly into action. 

Sam was also a hell of a lot more dominant than Dean had put him down as. Although Dean was the one who had initiated and had roughly pushed things forward with a burning need, it was Sam who re-stole control within a short time. It was his tongue entering Dean’s mouth, his hand cupping Dean’s head and his body that pressed to his brother’s with a slow determination that felt almost calculated in comparison to Dean’s somewhat chaotic need. 

It was also Sam who guided them toward the bed, their kiss amazingly unbroken as Dean suddenly found mattress under his ass and thighs, but he didn’t care about that. Now he didn’t have to worry about things such as gravity, Dean’s mind was set. Breaking the kiss with a deep growl a werewolf would have been proud of, he completely ignored whatever Sam was about to say - almost certainly something around the ‘are you okay’ line - and pounced on him a little harder. To hell with the previous agreement for passive underling. He was the elder brother, and fuck, it was going his way.

Apparently Sam disagreed. A flash of a smile on his little brother’s face and suddenly Dean found them flipped onto the mattress with Sam pinning down Dean’s legs and with a very solid hold on his arms. Another stolen, rough kiss that met coming both ways, their breathing already slightly ragged as they eyed each other up for the best place to seize control. 

Dean smirked. Oh, this was just like wrestling when they were younger except with more kisses and more sensitive spots. And not the carefully planned wrestling-practise-with-appropriate-moveset either, but the hard and fast and slightly dirty spontaneous wrestling they’d entered into when one or both of them had got fucked off with something, and it was a whole mixture of anger and comradeship and knowing each other’s weaknesses and strengths and closeness and emotional hits, and in the very few moments of clarity between the instinctual responses, Dean marvelled how damned _natural_ it felt.

And in keeping with their younger days, Sam seemed to be a little too self confident for his own good. Dean feigned tiredness for a moment, his body twisted and a soft groan that wasn’t entirely an act leaving his throat, until Sam shifted his weight in an attempt to move them into some other position. Dean took the advantage, shoving his weight towards Sam and forcing the roll, chuckling breathlessly as he did so.

“Nice try, little brother, but there’s no way you can-,”

Sam smiled sweetly at him, moved his hand slightly and squeezed Dean’s still very much aching dick through the hard fabric of his jeans. Dean almost blacked out, a strained gurgle in his throat as his body all but froze in position. Sam immediately rolled them again, but unfortunately for both of them they had run out of bed; Dean took the main brunt and suddenly found his breath being knocked out his body being added to his body’s list of general grievances, and Sam stared down at him in a slight daze, their legs tangled and bodies comfortably together.

Panting, there was a pause as their minds tried to catch up with world events.

“Uh,” Sam cocked his head to one side uncertainly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean croaked and allowed his head to fall back onto the ridiculously fuzzy rug that the motel had decided was clearly the height of fashion. He could still feel his brother pressed up against his groin, an accidental happiness simply due to how they had fallen, but still fucking pleasurable. His body ached but in a good way, a calmer way to the insanity of before, and Dean found himself all but purring softly until he caught himself doing it. Fuck, that was embarrassing.

He eyed his brother who was still watching him with an unreadable expression. Might be concern, might be need, might be a whole number of things. 

“Still want me to be on top?” Sam murmured softly in genuine curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Well, have you told yourself that?” Sam raised an eyebrow and lifted an arm pointedly where a bruise was already starting to form. Dean glanced at it and then chuckled again, leaning back lazily and giving his brother a cocky grin.

“Hey, I didn’t say I’d make it _easy_ for you.” he pointed out, his voice a slow drawl. 

Sam’s eyebrow rose. “Should I buy some restraints?” he asked, just as sweetly.

“You mean you’re not man enough to keep me down by yourself?” Dean countered, cocky grin growing. A flash of either annoyance or amusement flashed into Sam’s eyes, a determined line to his features that normally meant he was planning to dig his heels in and really get into the fight. Dean always thought it was unfair how he normally got the blame for fighting; it was Sam who had a distinct dislike of rules and authority, and didn’t back down for love nor money. 

“Thought this was supposed to be loving and caring and deliberate.” Sam dipped his head and gently nuzzled Dean’s neck, pressing a couple of uncertain kisses to his brother’s skin as they both got used to the unfamiliar movement. Sam’s thigh was still pressed against Dean’s groin and it was blatantly obvious that his little brother was fully aware of this and wasn’t planning to do anything about it. On the other hand, Dean was conscious that he wasn’t the only one with unruly lower quarters; he could feel the heat from Sam even through his jeans, the hard line of his erection pressed comfortably against the side of Dean’s stomach. 

“Have we ever done anything without some sort of fight somewhere?” Dean countered gruffly. Sam pulled a face as he thought about that and shrugged his agreement before leaning down and gently pressing his mouth against Dean’s again, softly at first to see whether he was either going to get screamed at or bitten. It was neither, and Sam slowly deepened the kiss.

“Seriously Dean, did you want me to find some restraints?” Sam breathed into his ear. Dean blinked, then leaned back to look at the flushed but determined expression of his brother.

“Well. One thing at a time, okay?”

Okay, this probably was going to kill him and perhaps they really should re-explore the ‘sexual deviant’ thing. Still, at least it was a novel way to go out. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

In the end their first sexual encounter had been relatively short, which was probably best for everyone. Their mouths had met again in a mix between erotic and power play before Sam’s hand slowly slid over his brother’s taut stomach to slip into his jeans with all the caution of one trying to disarm a nuclear weapon. Turned out that this was a wise decision as Dean, being Dean, almost hit the roof. 

Still, Sam persisted. That was the thing with his brother; he was obstinate and difficult and any other words associated with the word stubborn, but once he’d pushed himself over that line of loyalty then he was pretty easy to instruct. Sam had seen it all the time with their father, where Dean would only offer a slightly sulky form of compliance where normally he would be the first person to shout complaints. It drove Sam nuts, but then which families didn’t have that type of issue?

Sure enough a few moments of panic was all Dean had needed before he could slowly settle down with the rogue hand in his underwear. Wary eyes had scanned Sam’s for a moment, searching for answers or reassurance or whatever else soothed the savage beast in a genuine touching display of trust before Sam’s hand ruined any ability that Dean had left to think. Not that Sam had fared much better; his brother’s cock was hard, large and almost burning hot, so sensitive that a mere brush of fingers onto the sensitive organ produced a whimpering noise from his brother that Sam wasn’t even sure that Dean realised he’d made. He’d never heard anything like it before, and they’d done a hell of a lot of things that people would be fully justified to whimper about. It was soft and somehow pitiful, a little plea for help, and it only added to the increasing need that was building in Sam like water against a dam.

The noise also seemed to signify that Dean’s struggles for dominance were over. His brother’s head fell back onto the floor with careless abandon and probably gaining a bruise from the hard surface as he focused entirely on the sensations that Sam was adding to his nerves. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing hitched with each exploration in the confines of his brother’s clothing, Sam’s hand moving slowly and cautiously at first but growing in confidence with every passing second.

Not that the jeans were making this any easier. It was hard enough fishing out keys from Dean’s pockets whenever he was too drunk to drive, let alone trying to get enough room to slide the ball of his thumb over the top of his brother’s cock. In the end he’d managed to unfasten some uncooperative buttons and janked down the pants enough that he’d had room to work; it also had the rather welcome side effect of trapping Dean’s legs further, not that his brother seemed to be in the mood to fight.

In all honesty, that was pretty odd. If things hadn’t been the way they were, Sam would have been busy checking Dean hadn’t managed to get himself drugged between then and now, but these were odd times and Dean wasn’t the only one suffering. Sam’s own mind had been one large argument between doing the right thing and fucking everything, possibly literally, and his body was so damned tense and sensitive that he was pretty sure that just a puff of air was enough to set off fireworks. 

Thankfully Dean’s seemingly drugged compliance hadn’t lasted for long either which soothed his nerves. A tighter grip had produced a little jump in response and a furious glare before Dean remembered what the deal was and offered a sleepy cocky grin in apology. Sam had worked quietly and swiftly past that point, his brother’s eyes focused somewhere else and a flush drawn to his cheeks at each stroke. Three orgasms later, with a turn around time that Sam wasn’t even sure was humanly possible, and Dean had collapsed in a sleeping puddle on the floor.

And that, Sam guessed, was that. That fine line between close and obscene was broken, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to react. His brother had seemed happy enough, reacted sweetly and eagerly to each touch and caress, but people always reacted differently in the heat of passion. Would Dean feel the same when he woke up? Sam had no idea. 

God, this was all so very fucked up. And worse? He was still in desperate need himself. 

Sam groaned softly and sat back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he studied his elder brother asleep on the rug. Sleep was one of the few times that Dean actually looked relaxed, his brow smoothed and his expression one of unrealistic innocence despite his current clothing situation.

He was also ridiculously … well, he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence without cringing internally. Handsome? Attractive? Sounded ridiculous even in the privacy of his own head. Dean hadn’t physically changed since yesterday and yet the pull was crazy. Sam groaned softly and closed his eyes tiredly. He ached. He ached in more than one way, for that matter; bruises, arousal, headache, nothing was planning on giving him peace any time soon. It was incredibly unfair.

“When they said we were going to hell,” he murmured softly as his hand crept reluctantly but desperately into his pants for a bit of much needed relief. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought it would go.”

His gaze fell back on his brother slightly shamefully. Well, at least the view was good. And he’d probably get his own special demon for that thought as well.

*

Dean had no idea what time of day it was but one thing was certain, the pillow needed a shave. Sneezing once, he cracked open an eye to discover a very fuzzy and flat surface in front of his nose. Hmph. Moving slightly noted the numerous bruises on his body. Additional hmph. And pushing himself up discovered his jeans weren’t necessarily in the right spot.

Frowning down at himself, Dean ran past the last few memories, paused, and then winced. Oh yeah. That. 

Awesome.

“Sammy?” he called, his voice crackling from sleep. “Y’there?”

Pushing himself up and tugging up his jeans to a more traditional location, Dean cracked his neck and stared around. Nothing much to see, definitely no Sam, but at least a weird sex dungeon hadn’t manifested itself in their living room in the meantime. Had to take the bonuses where they lay. 

Saying that, he still had to work out what the fuck was going on. Swearing softly as he pushed himself up, Dean stretched out the kink in his back and glared at the bed as though it had personally decided that Dean should sleep on the floor rather than the mattress and then walked stiffly toward the window. 

Well, the car was still there which was a start. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean stumbled back and all but flopped back onto the bed. Ah, comfort. He cracked his eyes open and stared upwards. Hello dodgy ceiling, classic motel decorating. Did no one ever bother to paint the damned things again once they’d done it once? And how the fuck did you get stains like that anyway? The mind boggled, and probably a few more things.

Truth be told, he was getting a little worried about Sam. Stupid, really. Sam was a big boy, he could handle himself and fucking hell, was his mind just waiting for him to make that sort of comment and then provide a completely different image in his head? Dean growled softly and grabbed a pillow, shoving it over his head as though trying to hide. At least the darkness was welcome, and strangely comforting as he tried to clear his mind of all impure thoughts.

This took a while.

And all this was still crazy. Apparently he had a fixation on his own brother, his own _little_ brother for that matter, and now he was trying to relax he could remember the flashes of dubiously hot dreams from sleep and, more the point, the actual touch of Sam’s hand on his cock, the confident way that the ball of Sam’s thumb had moved across the tip and sent sensations flooding through him with such strength that it was hard to tell whether they were pleasure or pain. The way that Dean had to fight his own damned legs from widening in invitation and holy fuck that was terrible. He groaned under his pillow and tried to clear his mind a little more. 

Sam was still Sam. This was a passing phase, like a crush on a babysitter or something. He’d seen him through good times and bad, including the times when he had come home looking like he’d rolled around in rubbish, or had a bad haircut, or had one of his arguments that had turned sweet-Sam into someone who looked like he was one step away from a serial killer career. Man had an intensive glare on him when Sam put his mind to it.

They could get back to normal. Eat. Sleep. Hunt things. Fight a bit. 

Definitely _not_ curl up on the bed together. Definitely not put his tongue down his brother’s throat as Dean pinned him to the mattress. Definitely not run his nails down the skin on Sam’s back, or dig them into the meat of particularly perky buttocks, and fuck, he was fairly certain it was both obscene and probably legal to even _think_ that your brother’s buttocks were perky and yep, he was going to hell, moving directly to hell, and definitely not picking up his $200 on the way past. And don’t get him started on the subject of nipples, that was a whole new world of chaos.

The sound of the door indicated to him that the object of his desires had decided to come back. Either that or someone was planning to kill him where he lay, which for all intents and purposes was probably doing him a favour.

There was the sound of something hitting the table, a soft floof sound that suggested food in a paper bag, and then a pause.

“Dean,” Definitely Sam. No one else had that ‘I am very Concerned’ husky voice. “Are you trying to smother yourself with a pillow?”

“No.” came the muffled answer.

“Oh.” There was another pause, followed by a sigh. “ Well, just to let you know I don’t think you’re doing a very good job of _not_ smothering yourself. Please don’t start trying to commit suicide, life is complicated enough.”

“Duly noted. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam was all business. “Did you want bacon?”

Dean allowed the pillow to slightly lift and send some light in his dark little corner of the universe.

“Sammy, there is never a point where I don’t want bacon,” he hesitated, suddenly realising the danger. Bacon was one thing but Sam was out there and Dean had absolutely no idea what the hell he would do with a near proximity thing. “But not quite now. I’ll grab it in a minute, okay?”

Apparently his voice wasn’t as casual as he would have liked as he noted Sam giving him a side glance and fuck, that hit him straight in the groin with a throb so powerful that nations could use it as a form of natural energy. Dean groaned and allowed his defensive pillow to fall back in place. His imagination was pretty damned bad by itself but giving it a live model ramped it up 100%. Sam was a walking book of sexual suggestions, and that was before breakfast. Who knew what he could achieve at lunch?

“Why hasn’t this gone away?” Dean whined softly, and mostly into the pillow. “I thought you said it got better.”

“It does.” Sam replied vehemently, then hesitated when he realised his voice was probably a little too passionate. “Or at least, you get used to it,” he amended, reluctantly.

“ _Used to it?!_ Fucking hell, Sammy, I’ve got images of stuff that even Lucifer himself would hold back on as being a Bit Too Far.” However, that begged a few questions. The pillow was pushed up again slightly, enough to allow Dean to shoot a suspicious look toward Sam. “Wait. Does that mean you’re getting these things too?”

Sam shifted and decided to pay more attention to the food he’d brought than answer the question. Great. Dean resisted the urge to throw something at him, although that was mostly because there were very few missiles within arm’s reach rather than a lack of desire.

Finally Sam decided to speak.

“I guess so.” Sam’s voice was significantly more casual than the rest of his body. Sometimes you could read him like a manual with added awkward diagrams. “Something similar, anyway.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. That was also something he hadn’t really wanted to hear.

“How hard are you?” his voice was almost a command. Sam looked faintly bewildered by the request and stared back at him uncertainly.

“What, like ‘grrr’ hard?”

“No, like erection hard.” Dean clarified, his voice probably a little too strong but fuck it.

“Oh.” Sam paused in thought and then frowned, clearly not liking where the conversation was heading. “You know, most people normally start the day with ‘good morning’, or perhaps ‘thank you for getting breakfast’, but oh no, you have to start with erections.”

And that was so unfair. “Hey, don’t get pissy with me, Sammy.”

“You’re not the only one suffering here, Dean!” Sam snapped back. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t get pissy with you?”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shove you over that table and-,” Dean screeched his brain and mouth to a halt and tried to find a way to cool it down without sticking a bullet through his brain. Good god, what the hell was wrong with him? Horny was one thing but this was a whole new level of fucked up.

“Because the food’s on that table.” Sam replied pointedly, apparently unabashed by the suggestions of being shoved over anything. Well, Dean guessed that was probably a good thing, but reason went out the window when they were in the middle of a sibling spat, regardless of what had brought them there.

“ That’s a stupid reason, you can move the food.” Dean found himself automatically arguing, and anyway it allowed him some sort of relief before he popped through frustration. Sam gave a little shake of his head, his hair falling in such a way that for a moment he looked like a very disapproving spaniel.

“Apparently I can’t if I’m getting shoved. That would be a doormat situation, surely.”

Oh, his little brother was in dangerous waters. That holier than thou expression was jumping on his nerves and then playing them like a banjo.

“If I want you there then you’ll be there.” Dean snapped back, his voice with added teeth. Apparently it wasn’t toothy enough.

“Really?” A dangerous and irritated look aimed itself at Dean in challenge. “Want to _make_ me?”

There was a very long pause as the universe waited to see how that little play off was going to end. Grabbing onto his willpower with every shred of strength he possessed, Dean shoved his nails back into the palm of his hand in the hopes that the pain that it might both distract and cool him off a bit. It didn’t. Hell, the pain seemed to make things even more intense. What, he was a masochist now? Just awesome. 

“ Oh fuck, Sam, I really, _really_ want to make you. But I won’t.” Dean retreated back under his pillow, his voice getting a little more muffled as he did so. “And, just in case you missed it, apparently I’m going insane.”

There was a soft sigh that signified that Sam’s anger was abating too. Dean closed his eyes. This was crazy. So many things his mind was whispering for him to do, so many _options_ and not one of them was anywhere near family friendly. And they might have to last like this for.. What, two weeks? More? What was the guarantee that it would actually go away? Did they have to fuck their fill and hope that they’d be saited? 

“If you’re going insane then so am I,” there was a grating noise that suggested that Sam had sunk into a chair, his voice having altered back to his soft little boy one that he always used when he was uncertain and one that tugged more on Dean’s heartstrings. Little puppy Sammy. He could get away with fucking anything if he put his mind to it.

“Well, at least we have company for our madness,” Dean replied through his pillow. There was a soft pause as his imagination nagged at him, before curiosity finally got the best of the situation. “How bad is it?”

“How bad?” Sam made a soft sucking noise through his teeth as though he was assessing a used car. “Well, a little while ago I had an image of you naked, kneeling on the bed with your face turned to the headboard and your ass toward the rest of the room. Your wrists were tied to your ankles which made your head press down into the mattress and your ass in the air. Each ankle was then tied to the bed legs to stop you moving and to really .. you know, easy access.” There was a little pause. “You were trembling but you were begging me to take you, and take you hard. Make you feel it. And then someone asked me whether I wanted ketchup or mayo on my breakfast sandwich and I kinda woke up again.”

There was a very long pause, followed by another pause as the first clearly wasn’t long enough.

“..oh..” said Dean, weakly. Well, he had asked. And at least he hadn’t been standing upright otherwise he’d be picking his jaw off the floor. Perhaps the Trickster had a point when it came to Sam’s sexual grading.

“So, yeah, pretty bad.” Sam finished, slightly awkwardly. Dean already knew his little brother would have his head down slightly so his hair hid his eyes, a little inbuilt defence system that just happened to be sweet as pie.

Dean digested the wording for a moment. Was he sick or excited? Why the hell couldn’t he tell?! “And you have these images how often?”

“Uh… about once every twenty minutes, depending on what I’m doing and how close you physically are to me.” Sam had his business voice on as though they were talking supernatural entities but Dean just knew if he raised his pillow his little brother would fold just like he would. Pillows didn’t get enough credit in their protective powers. They deserved medals. Really complicated medals.

“I see.” Dean hesitated, and pushed on into a topic that he never realised existed and had been quite happy not knowing up to this point. However, times had changed and god, it was nagging at him. “So.. the image revolves around your sexual deviancy thing? This is what you fantasise about?”

“Guess so,” Sam paused, and Dean could see his little brother’s thoughtful frown in his mind. “Although I’ve never had any fantasy show to that level of detail before. Hell, I’ve had visions that were less vivid.”

“Sammy, pretty sure I’ve had whole sexual encounters less vivid than that,” Dean replied with feeling. 

There was a soft snort of laughter from the direction of Sam’s chair before silence fell again. Dean was slowly and delicately trying to unpick thoughts he didn’t really want the answers to when Sam spoke again cautiously. 

“What about you? What sort of things have you been seeing?”

Oh, and that wasn’t an awkward conversation at all. Fuck, he found it hard enough to talk about normal emotions, let alone personal fantasies that had been cranked up to 110%. Dean shifted on the bed and was pointedly reminded that the fabric of his jeans did not work well with a hard groin. There was a soft hiss. Fuck friction, it was clearly a bastard.

“Uh,” he said weakly. “.. a variety.”

Well, that was a crap answer but Dean wasn’t sure he could possibly turn some of the things in his head into words without needing mental health sectioning. Needless to say it also didn’t satisfy the ever questioning Sam by any stretch of the imagination. There was another huff of laughter, this one slightly fondly, and accompanied by a creak of the chair as his brother presumably readjusted his position. Or perhaps he was happily jerking off in public, who knew, _and jesus could he stop thinking that sort of thing?!_

“Okay. I’m not anticipating any novel out of you, but it would be good to know what type of things you’re actually interested in.” Sam paused. “So.. you on top in these images? Bottom? Both?”

“At the same time? My dexterity is good but it’s not that good,”

“Nice stalling tactics.” Sam replied drily. 

“Thanks. I practise every day.” 

There was a soft sigh that held hints of frustration and another creak from movement. Dean blinked in the sudden light as his pillow was stolen, rolling over immediately to try to swipe it back but only finding air. Blatantly Sam was far too sneaky and swift nowadays. Growling, Dean looked up to meet a steady brown gaze coming the other way, stern and clearly losing patience. His groin throbbed in approval. Fuck.

“Fine. _Fine_.” Dean pushed himself back into a sitting position and sulked briefly, taking the opportunity to look away. Did that work? Of course it didn’t. Far too aware of Sam nearby, aware of his body, his breathing, his .. well, everything, he didn’t need to list it. 

“Well… I …,” Dean waved a hand just in case this added to the conversation. It didn’t, but at least it got him a bit of exercise. Sam waited politely but with a hint that stated quite clearly that luck wasn’t so much being pushed as shoved.

“..you?” Sam prompted, folding his arms and taking a stance that reminded Dean slightly of a pirate. And that was a whole new line of thought, tight breeches, open floppy shirt to show off his chest, an ‘arrr’ attitude because Sam seemed to really shine when he was being rebellious - well, as long as it wasn’t rebellious against Dean himself - and ..

...and _stop it_. Right there. Right now. Focus on the question and not how Sam’s nipples would be complemented by period costume shirts of ill-repute.

“.. I don’t know.” Dean replied miserably. “It mixes. Sometimes you’re on top, sometimes I’m there. If I had to work out a vague connection, I’d say that most of them show that I .. well, like to,” at which point his words dropped in volume as he mumbled the rest of the line.

Sam’s eyebrow rose.

“Didn’t catch that.” he pointed out when Dean failed to repeat it.

“And what d’you want me to do about it, give you subtitles?!” snapped back Dean, harder and angrier than he’d originally gone for. For a moment he thought he’d gone too far but from the look that Sam was giving him it was apparent that anger was just the reaction that his little brother had been expecting. Definitely pirate, just waiting to steal your treasure or attack your booty or feed your parrot some crackers. Bastard.

“Spit it out, Dean. I told you mine.” Sam was definitely not channeling his peaceful sweet mood, and that didn’t help Dean’s agitation. He had a sudden urge to slam him against a wall and remind his little brother who was in charge, but from the look on Sam’s expression there was a genuine possibility he was hoping he’d do it. Calculating had nothing on Sam when he got going.

“Sometimes I don’t know whether to save you or kill you,” Dean commented with feeling. Sam snorted dismissively.

“Oh, I’m familiar with that viewpoint. Must be something you get when you have a brother.” he replied pointedly. “Get on with it.”

“This attitude your sexual deviancy at play? The whole dominance thing?” Dean countered, mostly as a distraction but partly because an argument sounded real good right about now. Uncomfortable confessions could fuck right off. 

Sam laughed softly and stared briefly at the ceiling as though praying for it to give him either strength, patience or possibly a flamethrower, before looking back at Dean with those determined brown eyes that were just .. oh, be still his fucking stupid heart, this was not the time.

“You really have it in for my sexual deviancy thing.”

Dean shrugged. “Not often you get demi-gods commenting on it, that’s all.”

“Yeah? It’s not just because you’re curious?” Sam took a step forward, his eyes flashing. “Or you’re just jealous because my sex life is more interesting than yours?”

Dean blinked and found a few more elements of anger to add to his current collection. “What? Fuck off, Sammy, my sex life is pretty damned good as you well know!”

“Yeah? Not a question of same thing, different girl?” Sam’s gaze was as steady as a rock that had gone on a sobriety pledge. “Never get to experiment, do you Dean? Never get to explore just in case it questions your tough man image.”

“Fuck you.” Dean’s voice was a snarl.

“Nah, you couldn’t do that. That, Dean, would be _interesting_. Not this cookie cutter sex thing that you need,” Sam countered back, just as hard.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. Oh, that was fighting talk, and based on the tension within Sam’s shoulders apparently a fight was exactly what his little brother was hoping to get. 

“What’s the matter, Sam? You desperate to get your ass beaten, is that it?” He pushed himself slowly from the bed, eyes trained on his brother as though Sam was a tiger who had decided to come for tea. Sam laughed again in genuine amusement.

“Cupcake, if anyone was going to get their ass beat, it’s gonna be you.” Sam raised an eyebrow, his voice lowering to a soft growl. “And you’d like it as well.”

“Oh really?” Dean growled. _Cupcake?!_ Fuck him. Fuck him to hell and back and possibly to McDonalds for a burger on the way.

Sam’s eyes gleamed dangerously.

“Really.” The word was soft, deliberate and delicately pronounced. 

And fuck, that was it. Dean was off the bed and no more than a footstep from his brother in an instant as they glared at each other. He could feel a twitch in his jaw from its tightness, the neverending throb of frustration and need which was mixing easily with the anger already bubbling up. Why couldn’t Sam just be a good boy and shut the fuck up? But no, always had to poke the bear, now and when they were kids, even with Dad himself. 

“D’you know what I think?” Sam studied him, so close that Dean could feel his breath and sense the heat from his body. Dean scowled at him, which seemed the appropriate thing to do under the circumstances.

“Not really but since when did that stop you?” 

“True.” There was a shrug but Dean could see the flash of irritation show in Sam’s eyes and the way his shoulders straightened. “I think you’re a coward.”

Oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Dean’s eyebrows rose politely, a little small nod as though thinking things over before he calmly cleared the distance between them in a smooth, darting move and slammed his fist into Sam’s jaw. Well, at least that had been the plan. Sam, being Sam, had already calculated this particular occurrence and had dodged enough that the punch missed its intended target and instead had hit into his shoulder hard instead. 

And then, needless to say, it was war. 

The fight happened so quickly that it was hard to pinpoint what was happening. Fast, hard and trained, their responses were almost automatic and quite often remarkably dirty. Dean suddenly found himself slammed backward by Sam but was able to give a damned good kick to his brother’s thigh that staggered him and removed the momentum. Sam wasn’t in the mood to surrender either; his head dipped and he delivered a couple of good solid blows to Dean’s chest and stomach, one after the other and fuck, he had a good punch on him. 

Wasn’t good enough, though. Grabbing hold of his brother’s arm, Dean flung him toward the wall and followed to take advantage immediately, one arm wrapped around Sam’s throat in a headlock and his leg hooked around Sam’s. But no, apparently Sam had more tricks up his sleeve. Waiting for a moment, Sam put all his strength into loosening his arm and slamming his elbow back with all his might into Dean’s solar plexus that in turn knocked out the air from his lungs in a painful draw. 

Panting, even more furious, Dean forced himself to recover. Grabbing hold of Sam’s hips, he shoved them both hard enough against the wall that one of the nearby pictures fell down in a dramatic display, Dean’s body hard and unforgiving against Sam’s and his arm pressed firmly across his little brother’s windpipe. A death glare met him coming from the other side, Sam squirming slightly as he snarled, and Dean was just about to relax his hold when the retaliation attacked. Fuck! Punches and grapples and kicks and even a bite, hard and fast and already building a sweat as they fought.

Fate was not feeling particularly kind to him though. Dean had managed to find an advantage, see a spot that would almost certainly knock his little brother onto his ass and he was lining up for the shot when his foot caught some damned thing that had been left on the floor and his balance stumbled. And Sam? Oh, Sam was always good to seize an opportunity when it presented itself, and it took less than a second for him to pounce and crash them to the floor, beaten, slightly bloody and definitely sweaty.

For a moment they just rested there, Dean on his back with Sam pressed hard against him, staring at each other as they slowly regained control over their breathing.

Sam scanned Dean’s eyes with an air of grim satisfaction.

“Looks like I won.” he panted.

“Fucking cheated.” Dean snarled and tried to push up. Sam waited for a moment before slamming him back down on the floor again.

“Be a good boy and just stay there, will you?”

“Fuck you.” Dean hadn’t been a good boy for most of his life and wasn’t planning to start any time soon.

Sam smiled grimly. “We’ve covered that suggestion already. Perhaps it might be better for you to have the alternative position.”  
And there they had it. Dean gritted his teeth but said nothing. Oh, he could have easily started swearing. Could have easily started telling Sammy where to go and to find that vulnerable spot that Dean knew damned well Sam would have somewhere. Couldn't force him to do anything.

And yet he was pretty damned certain he was half hoping for that force to turn up anyway.

From the look of faint surprise in Sam’s eyes it was clear that he was expecting a bit more of a battle. For a second he was back to the young boy that Dean had known, uncertainty in his expression that he was doing the right thing, before the stronger look returned. Sam adjusted his position to something a little more comfortable and Dean let him without trying to steal back the advantage, just waiting and watching and having no idea himself where he wanted this to end.

Finally Sam spoke, his voice a little huskier than normal and set to a lower tone as though they were trying to hide from someone in the next room.

“Dean, we can’t go on like this.” Sam ran his tongue over his bottom lip again to dampen it, and then met his brother’s eyes again steadily. “This is going to drive us both crazy.”

“Then what d’you want us to do?” Dean knew his voice was rough but it was honest, a query rather than an outrage. 

Sam opened his mouth, clearly with something in mind, and then hesitated again. And Dean knew that look. That was the look that little Sammy always got whenever he knew he was going to do something that he would need to apologise for later. And it didn’t take a genius to know what type of activities were likely to be on the table which might need a whole lot of ‘sorry’ surrounding it.

Dean let out his breath slowly. “You want us to start,”

“I want to fuck you, yes.” The apology was still in his eyes, his voice, but his need and determination was still very evident in every muscle of Sam’s body. And Dean knew he should be kicking and screaming right at this point, arguing his case, getting things back to a planned set of circumstances. Couldn’t bring himself to do it though. He could already sense Sam’s excitement and he’d be a lying bastard if he didn’t say he wasn’t equally interested, a nervous shiver in his body and a solid, determined heartbeat that seemed to locate itself within his pants. 

It was wrong. They both knew it. But he’d done a whole list of ‘wrong’ things so far. The tools of their trade sat in their suitcases, waiting to save someone but equally knowing there was a good chance of accidentally killing an innocent host in order to save countless other lives. They were sat in a motel room paid for by fraud and deception. Yeah, if they were restricted on what was the ‘right’ thing to do then they’d never do anything.

Did that make him less nervous? Did it fuck. But he trusted Sam, trusted him with his life, and if he was going to try it with anyone then it seemed right that it would be him. Well, vaguely. If you squinted.

Dean licked his lips that had suddenly found a whole new Sahara level of dryness, before clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” the words were rough and probably unintelligible but fuck it. Dean’s expression grew steadier. “Let’s do this.”

And god rest their souls.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Well, this was crazy.

Sam was still uncertain how to process any of it. His relationship with Dean was complex at the best of times, but up until now it had mostly revolved around family and work and the occasional stolen chocolate bar. And now here they were, slightly bruised and battered and both undeniably eager to know each other in ways that Society was pretty sure shouldn’t be happening.

And god, he was horny. Really, _really_ horny. The type of need that could dissolve morals and destroy common sense and forget that tomorrow was another day and they’d have to look each other in the eye over a mundane bowl of cereal. Sam could tell himself it was a bad idea over and over again but those were just words. Reality was the fact that he wanted to do incredibly bad things to Dean, and, more importantly, Dean apparently wanted those bad things on him.

But now they were here and now? Sam wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do with him.

He’d allowed him up on his knees and amazingly Dean had stayed there, still slightly out of breath with a scrape on his forehead and his green eyes even darker as they stared up at him in challenge. 

They stayed like that for several minutes as though breaking the gaze might in some way end the world. Sam had no idea what was going through his brother’s head right at that time, but certainly his own was full of helpful suggestions and vivid images that made concentration that much harder. Well, it made a number of things that much harder, and he shifted slightly to relieve pressure in his pants a little more as Sam considered his next steps.

“Go on, then.” Naturally Dean couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. Sam frowned at him reproachfully.

“I’m thinking.”

“Well, that must be a novelty.” The retort was out of Dean's mouth almost immediately, and Sam knew damned well it was fuelled by vulnerability and habit but that didn’t necessarily stop the sudden urge to add extra whips to the line up. And a gag. A really good gag. 

He growled, annoyed with himself. That addition to his head was even crazier. He’d known about his different ‘inclinations’ for years now, accepted that certain things spoke to him on levels that made Sam cringe internally, but for most of the time there were few opportunities and they mostly remained as fantasies or occasionally appearing in his sex life as small additions. A smack here, a growled word there. Life had been easier when some of the restraints had essentially entered mainstream, and Sam had breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t get quite so many weird looks if he leaned that way. But ultimately he decided if and when it came out.

Here? It was like having everything yanked up 500% percent, and Dean’s natural inclination to be a cocky bastard who always wanted the last word was not helping. 

Of course the whole appeal was control. His whole damned life he’d been pushed from pillar to post, occasionally being told what was happening if he was lucky but mostly having to adapt. Even now his life was being pushed by forces he couldn’t stop or fight, and like it or not, Dean was one of those things even if he did love him. Concept of taking him, controlling him, getting him to dance to a different tune was damned good, even if Sam already knew it would be an uphill struggle. But admitting that? Hard as hell.

Apparently his inner thoughts and general disapproval was pretty clear on his face as Dean hesitated, a sheepish look entering his eyes before he glanced away as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Sorry,”

Sam sighed. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. Well, no. It wasn’t _all_ Dean’s fault. And worse, thanks to the ridiculous levels of arousal that seemed to be permanently welded to his mind, every time Dean misbehaved it only served to crank up the need to beat it out of him. They were truly the poster boys of fucked up individuals.

“Just take your clothes off, Dean.”

Amazingly, Dean still seemed surprised when the order came. Eyes turned back to him in faint shock, initial uncertainty soon hidden in an automatic scowl which he so often did as soon as he felt vulnerable. And Dean was going to feel vulnerable, Sam had no doubt about that. He was pretty sure that his brother sometimes taunted attacks just so Dean knew exactly what was going to happen, regardless of whether it was negative.

Still, apparently his brother was still willing to give the whole thing a try. Sam paced a little as he watched Dean stand again, his brother eyeing him for a moment before the t-shirt was tugged off with almost hostility. The jeans were swift to follow, yanked off with as much grace as jeans allowed and dumped carelessly to one side.

Well, it was a good start but there was more to go. Sam raised an eyebrow and fought down his steadily rising need. 

“Whole lot,” his gaze dropped to the boxers briefly and then back up again. “And then knees again.”

There was a wary look in Dean’s eyes as he reviewed the situation in his mind. Sam was faintly impressed he hadn’t made a joke about the Hokey Cokey yet.

“Look, I said I was sorry for punching you in the balls.”

Sam thought about that. “Actually, you didn’t.”

Dean hesitated. “Well, I was thinking it internally.” 

“Uh-huh.”

They studied each other for a moment until finally there was movement and essentially an admission of defeat. This wasn’t really the time for a gloating moment, but Sam allowed himself an internal smile. Had to take the wins where you could.

“Is this what you like?” Dean scowled as he all but ripped off the fabric and tossed it unceremoniously to one side. “Power plays?”

“More a delaying tactic while I work out what the fuck we’re doing, but sure, why not.” It certainly didn’t hurt as far as Sam was concerned, and there was something extra appealing with a nude Dean in a slightly pissy mood. And finally the man was naked, with his arms folded across his chest, a scowl etched on his face and a body that begged to be generally harassed. Sam forced himself to focus on the upper end; the lower half was definitely not helping clear thoughts.

Clearly Dean was still fully on board with his fucked off defense plan, the scowl darkening even further, and Sam felt somewhat relieved by that. It was one thing to mess around with someone still snarling and in control, but quite another to inflict things on someone blatantly vulnerable. Puppy dog eyes would be adorable but would wholeheartedly make Sam feel like shit, or at least more shit than he did already.

Sam’s gaze traveled down his brother’s body for a moment, and a rueful smile curled in the corner of his mouth. Well, not _entirely_ shit. There were benefits.

“Well, come on then,” Dean demanded.

“Honest question, are you trying to get me angry or is that just a lucky coincidence?” Sam spoke mildly but his gaze was steady and hard when it returned from a quick assessment of Dean’s lower half. Man was glorious. “You did agree to this.”

Dean pulled a face and looked sulky. “Yeah, well.”

Sam waited politely and then raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, what?”

There was a frown. “Yeah, well, _sir_?” The last word had a deliberately mocking ring to it.

Sam hissed through his teeth and tried to catch hold of his temper. Oh, this whole pushing his luck thing was getting irritating fast, and sure, it was helping him to get over his hesitation of making Dean both squirm and squeal but the risk that he’d have difficulty slowing down when things got heated got that much greater. And the most annoying part of it? The whole ‘Annoy Sam’ thing was yet another attempt for Dean to grab hold of control once again.

“If you want to pull out now you only have to say,” Sam raised a finger immediately as Dean opened his mouth. “And if you say ‘as the actress said to the bishop’ so help me god I will beat the crap out of your ass with a broken off chair leg now.”

Dean looked sulkier although a small half smile played on his lips. “Well, aren’t you tetchy.”

Sam’s eyebrow rose higher. Finally there was a soft sigh and Dean looked sheepish again.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

“Let’s stick to realism here rather than random miracles.” Sam replied bluntly, although he couldn’t resist closing the gap between them and gently resting his palm on Dean’s chest curiously. He could feel his brother stiffen at the touch, a nervous energy but one that Dean controlled as he stayed stock still, allowing Sam to explore as he wished. And to think this used to be a fairly routine body part, once upon a time. Crazy.

There was a soft hiss from Dean as Sam’s fingers brushed over the hard tip of a nipple, although he looked shame-faced as Sam glanced upwards in surprise.

“Didn’t realise you were that sensitive.” he murmured

“Yeah, well. These are unusual times.” Dean muttered back, although still trying to keep the manufactured carelessness of his voice. And it was definitely manufactured; Sam could feel the tension in his brother’s body, the way he reacted to every single little touch and breath, the faint trembling in his limbs as though Sam had strung him up somewhere and left him to hang, the slightly quickened breathing, and the hardness that was impossible to ignore.

No, for all Dean’s arguments and bitching and annoyances, this was clearly something he was fully on board for, and Sam made perfectly sure as he allowed his hand to drift further south. His brother’s breathing stopped dead as Sam’s hand closed over his cock, a faintly pleading look entering Dean’s eyes as they stared back at each other barely ten centimeters apart.

“I ain’t begging.” Dean’s voice when it came was ragged around the edges, but the unspoken plea was clear to both of them. 

Sam smiled gently. Oh, he would. He just probably wouldn’t use nice words to do so. It was clear that Dean was affected just as hard as he was, and his elder brother was not used to being refused what he wanted. Sam allowed his hand to drift slightly further, cupping his balls and gently playing as he watched Dean’s reactions in fascination. Dean bit his lip, his expression moving between pleading and frustration and vulnerable and anger and then back again. He didn’t move though, and that really was a modern miracle in itself. 

“I don’t need foreplay.” Dean growled softly, helplessly. “Just get on with it.”

“Well, I do.” There was no way that Sam was planning to start without Dean being fully warmed up, but by the way his brother was shaking and the pre-cum leaking from him it seemed Dean was already five steps along and planning to clear the rest at a run. “And incidentally, I’m the one who’s supposed to be making the rules here. Stop offering your opinions.”

“Well, make them faster.”

And this was getting trying really, really quickly.

“You’re one step away from a full gag.”

Dean cocked his head to one side in mock question. “Is there any point in a half gag?”

Sam growled softly, patience not so much being tested as fully examined under a microscope. “And a flogging.” the words were out almost automatically.

“Good.” Dean’s eyes flashed. “Do it.”

Wait, what? 

Sam frowned, not entirely sure whether he’d heard it right or whether Dean had understood what the implications were. Wouldn’t be the first time that he’d landed himself in real trouble by essentially volunteering for it, and ordinarily Sam would dismiss it as ego talking. But still, here and now there seemed to be a surprising amount of determination in his brother’s eyes.

“I mean it,” Dean repeated shakily. “ Do it. I want to hurt. It makes more sense.”

Sam blinked. And to think he believed it couldn’t get more complicated.

“In which universe?!” But the expression in front of him seemed pretty damned genuine, hell, it even looked like a plea for help, which made him even more cautious. Dean might get himself into conflict on a regular basis but this would be the first time that Sam was the one personally wielding the torture equipment. Things could go badly so very easily, but god, what if it went _right_?

No, this was them. It was almost certainly bound to go wrong. Still, the puppy dog eyes in front of him were hard to ignore. 

“Come on, Sammy, please. I don’t want to be in some lovey dovey situation, or obedient, or trying to forget stuff. It’s not me. I’d just feel pathetic.” Dean took a tiny step forward, limiting the space between them even further until a mere tilt of the head would end up as a kiss if they let it. “But if you drag me there, force me into it..,”

Dean’s lips brushed lightly over Sam’s before his eyes scanned Sam’s again. “Makes life a whole lot easier to justify, even if it’s just in my head.”

And he’d heard that defence argument before. Dealing with things that Dean didn’t want to admit was a whole lot easier when he could claim to himself that he had no choice, that life had brought him kicking and screaming to make the best of it. Admitting that he might actually like it, _want_ it, was a personal development that Dean was probably not ready for. Saying that, this wasn’t like just picking a new place for dinner. 

Sam eyed him carefully. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

Dean laughed softly, and Sam felt a stab of longing from the soft, loyal eyes that were aimed at him. 

“Probably not. But bruises are a good start.” He was offered a small lopsided smile. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s pretend you’re a bad man.”

Pretend. Oh, he wished. 

“And isn’t this what you like? Sexual deviancy stuff. Sex with accessories.” Dean continued the world’s oddest sales pitch, his voice growing more determined. “Fuck the whole candlelit dinner thing, let’s go in and go hard. You wanna tell me you don’t want to just grab me and let loose?”

There were certainly a few things that were appealing right about now and full on sex was only half of it. Still, Dean wasn’t finished, which was probably the story of their lives.

“One thing, though. I’m okay to fight back. Not hard, not really, not messing up whatever little plan you’ve got going, but you can’t complain if you get a kick in the balls or a bite on the shoulder or whatever.” Dean paused, then thought about that. “Well, you _can_ , but you can’t take it personally. Okay?”

Terms and conditions? Reasonable, he guessed, but there had probably been a better way to deal with it. Sam eyed him. “You still saying it’s _just_ me who likes sexual weirdness?”

His brother offered a ‘tsk’ noise and a cocky grin. “Hey, you’re my brother. Makes sense. Probably genetics or some crap like that.”

“That would certainly be an interesting medical paper,” Sam replied idly, still analysing Dean’s offer in his mind despite his own internal urge to just take it at face value. Seemed genuine. His brother would almost certainly regret it, but Sam wasn’t sure there was much from this whole situation that Dean wouldn’t beat himself up about at some point. 

His hand rose again to trail blunt nails from Dean’s tattoo lazily downwards, across the strength of his chest and taut stomach muscles that twitched in sensation. Dean made a soft noise at the back of his throat, and then suddenly captured Sam’s wrist with his hand, an urgent look in his eyes.

“But you can’t tell anyone about this. Okay?” Dean scanned Sam’s eyes intensely, and there was the vulnerability that Sam remembered. His brother might deny it but Sam knew a lot of Dean’s self worth rested on how other people saw him, and this was almost certainly going to fuck things up unless they were talking full possession. “At all. Situation never existed.”

The feasibility of that request was still in question but now was not a time for reality. Sam gave him a small but warm smile. There was no question on it, really. He’d protect him as much as it was humanly possible to do so.

Not that Sam was quite as worried when it came to himself. People already looked at him oddly. Fucking his brother was probably just another tick on the ‘I knew there was something wrong with that boy’ list.

“I swear.” Sam decided not to remind him about the Magic Recording Box, it just wasn’t worth torpedoing Dean’s confidence. There was another moment of careful study before Dean gave him a relieved smile and released his hand again. Well, Sam guessed they could always claim the damned thing was fake or something had taken over their bodies, it wasn’t as though weirder things hadn’t happened already.

“Although don’t get used to this,” Dean added, always excellent at fucking up a touching brotherly moment. “Day to day, I’m in charge.”

Well, Sam guessed he needed another little boost to get back to a disciplinarian mode, and apparently Dean was always happy to oblige whether his brother knew it or not. Dean was about to add something else but a twitch of Sam’s hand on his body turned words into a soft ‘ngh’. Oh yeah, Dean was sensitive. Sam’s groin ached at the thought. 

“Get on the bed,” Sam murmured softly and pushed him off slightly, using the space between them to start unbuttoning his own shirt and dropping it on the floor. His hands paused on the band of his jeans as Dean stayed put, clearly more interested in Sam’s activities than his brother’s suggestions on what he should be doing with his time. Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“Get on the bed _now_.” The words had lost their softness and were forced through gritted teeth. 

The response to that was a lazy glance that was bordering on insolence before Dean offered another cocky grin and moved to the mattress. Sam let his breath out slowly and growled softly. Oh, _that_ was entirely deliberate on Dean’s part, trying to ensure his brother was angry enough to ensure bruising was possible. And worse? It was almost certainly working. If Dean could walk properly for the next two weeks then Sam felt he wasn’t doing a good enough job. 

Sure enough, there were a few more gentle pokes to the bear.

“I dunno, Sammy.” Dean had finally sat himself on the mattress but the smug, cocky expression was still on his features. “M’not sure you’ve got it in you.”

Calm. _Calm_. This was his rodeo and he’d ride Dean exactly the way he wanted, although granted Sam had a significantly higher desire to really hear his brother whimper.

“Trust me,” Sam unwound the belt from his jeans and folded it in two, testing the weight in his hands as he did so. “I’m more than happy to beat some of this out of you. You don’t need to wind me up further.”

“Pretty sure I do.” Dean drawled, although his eyes were fixed on the belt for a moment with a wary trepidation that was intoxicating. Didn’t last long enough. Green eyes rose again and his trademark grin flashed back at his brother. “Not sure you’ve got the balls.”

Sam took hold of his patience with both hands and held on tight. Oh, if Dean carried on like this he was going to have severe questions on the state of his balls as well. And carry on he would, Sam could see it now. Well, so much for warm ups.

Giving him a smile with limited warmth, Sam closed the distance between them as he grabbed hold of Dean’s arm and roughly pulled him to his feet. As soon as his brother had stumbled upright, Sam had turned him and shoved him hard back toward the bed.

“Hey, you just said-,” 

“Get your hands on the mattress and put your head down.” Sam had been aiming for a steady and calm voice but instead produced a low and dangerous growl that spoke of serious pain should people decide to ignore this instruction. Dean glanced over his shoulder carefully, his mouth almost opening to let out the immediate retort before seeing the flash in Sam’s eyes and very wisely deciding against it. Sam relaxed slightly. Perhaps his brother didn’t have a death wish after all. Possibly.

Things were a lot better as soon as Dean had placed his hands on the mattress and bent over. Being out of Dean’s immediate line of sight seemed to reduce both the weirdness and his brother’s automatic Anti-Obedience response, and had the added benefit of being able to appreciate the view. Sam purred softly internally. His mental images hadn’t done his brother credit; lean muscles, golden skin in the light mixed with the occasional dark bruise or healing cut, and the line of his ass and thighs was pretty much indecent. 

A smooth, unmarked ass, for that matter. Sam sighed softly. Definitely going to hell.

It was almost impossible to resist touching. He gently ran a fingertip down Dean’s spine and lightly across the tense muscle of his right buttock, and grinned wolfishly to himself from Dean’s little jump that suggested his brother had been anticipating a much sharper pain. He could get used to that reaction very easily indeed. It was much easier to let Dean’s anticipation torture him where Sam’s belt couldn’t.

Sure enough, the slow activities outside of his vision was slowly driving Dean nuts.

“Fuck sake, Sammy!” Rough, impatient and slightly desperate words. “could you just-,”

As it turned out, Sam could. The first strike of the belt might have been much harder than Sam had originally planned but it did its job of shutting Dean up, the red line where it landed blossoming nicely. There was a soft hiss of response and a furious growl but Dean didn’t move other than to lower his head and to fist his hands in the blankets of the bed. 

“Is that it?” Dean spat out after a moment. “ I’ve had paper cuts that were wors- _fuck_ ,”

The second was harder, strong enough for Sam to feel the impact in his bicep, and apparently powerful enough to steal some of Dean’s air. His brother was still for a moment, still perfectly in the position that Sam had originally placed him, and Sam wondered briefly whether this signified the point when Dean shut the fuck up and just allowed someone else to take over.

Apparently not, although Dean’s voice was nowhere near as strong as it used to be.

“You sure-,” it was a soft pant, but definitely not to be encouraged.

A series of four more blows followed those unwise words in sharp succession, to the point where Dean was automatically moving his ass closer to the bed to avoid the hit. Now slightly out of breath himself, Sam waited to see what his brother would do. Finally, _finally_ , it seemed like Dean had got the point.

Of course, that didn’t mean the activities had to _stop_. Dean had wanted to hurt, to feel like he had no option even if that was a fairy tale, and there was something magical about the way his brother was now waiting for his decision, ready to soak up anything that Sam gave him. A smile flickered in the corner of Sam’s mouth. Now this was more like it.

There was a soft yelp as Sam flicked the belt over him again and began to add layers, slowly at first but growing in intensity as he worked. Dean’s head had lowered further but he made no further attempt to move, his body bracing against the impacts but clearly willing to take them. Didn’t take long before Dean’s breathing had become strained, his ass was criss-crossed with a range of glowing marks, and Sam was as conscious of the thin sheen of sweat on his own back from the intensity as he was of the longing ache within him that was almost damned painful. Had to put that to one side, of course. Needed to get it right.

And for a short moment he thought he’d fucked that up massively. There was one next blow and Dean suddenly pushed off from the mattress, his elbow swinging back hard and landing a sharp blow in Sam’s side. Grunting in surprise, Sam hesitated until Dean’s angry flashing eyes turned to glare at him.

“Well, _get on with it_ you -,”

Oh, you had to be kidding him! He’d always known that Dean’s impatience was liable to kill them both, but he hadn’t quite anticipated the circumstances. Sam didn’t bother to listen to the current insult. Pushing him back away, quite aware that this was one of Dean’s mock escapes to prove he wasn’t a pushover, Sam didn’t care anymore. If Dean thought he could handle it then why not. Several damned hard blows rained down to the extent that his arm ached and even Sam thought he might have gone too far. But no.

“..harder..,” it was a soft gasp. Sam growled in frustration, leaning down and pressing his body against the heat of Dean’s trembling back. He knew this trick. Didn’t matter who was holding the whip - or belt in this case - Dean was always trying to control things, and right here and now, he was clearly gunning for some serious damage. No. Just for once he was going to have the upper hand.

“I am _not_ beating until you can’t walk,” he hissed in Dean’s ear, although granted it was a damned appealing thought. There was a ragged chuckle.

“Why not?” Dean pressed back and Sam suddenly realised his error as the rise of his brother’s ass matched neatly with his groin. There was another soft if shaky laugh and Dean allowed his head to fall forward again. “C’mon.”

Sam had to bite back a groan of his own as Dean deliberately and slowly pressed back again, circling his hips and pressing harder against him. Fucking bastard. Well, if he wanted to play dirty, Sam was always up for the challenge.

Moving his leg between Dean’s and pushing them further apart, Dean froze as though zapped with an ice-ray as Sam calmly but swiftly pushed a finger inside him. Not far, of course, Dean’s muscles had automatically clamped down on the visitor, but enough to make a point. 

There was a very long silence.

“Are we now on the same page,” Sam murmured in Dean’s ear pointedly. “Or do we need a bit more discussion?”

There was a soft moan-squeak in response, which Sam assumed was probably an affirmative that behaviour would improve. Certainly Dean sagged back down as soon as the finger had been removed, with soft little gasps confirming that said brother was still alive.

Sam smiled to himself, pushed back and gave Dean a hard slap as he did so. “Good boy.”

It was more a gasp than formed words, but the general emphasis was apparent. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.” Sam mused idly, and gave him another gentle slap on the ass since it was there. “You can get on the bed now.”

The universe waited in interest to see whether Dean was going to follow this instruction, and was mildly surprised when he did. There was a soft growl that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a werewolf before he grudgingly crawled onto the bed and all but flopped down on his stomach.

“Happy?” The word was muffled.

“Ecstatic.” Sam resisted the urge to lean across to slap him again, and instead retreated back to their bags. He was aware of Dean raising his head slightly as the rummaging noises began, but too busy to care as he fished out equipment that might be useful. Several types of rope, check. Couple of pairs of handcuffs. Some clips that were normally used for keeping things in bags, which probably weren’t going to come anywhere near either of them but looked pretty threatening. A ..

Sam blinked, and pulled out the ball gag. Okay. Well, this wasn’t his but it was brand new and he wasn’t about to question things. Weirder things happened at sea. Hell, weirder things happened down the supermarket. Best not to ask.

Grabbing the stuff, Sam prowled back toward the bed and raised an eyebrow toward Dean who was still watching him with a wary expression.

“Did I say you could watch?”

“Never told me I couldn’t.” Dean protested. “I’m all for misbehaving but you gotta tell me about whatever crap rule you’re trying to enforce before you complain.”

With that, Dean readjusted his position on the bed and continued to watch, but he was very careful not to roll too far. Sam was pleased to note the skin of his backside still had a rosy tint to it, and there were several lines he could see even from his position. Oh yes, that was definitely satisfying.

“You ..uh, gonna get rid of your jeans?” Dean looked pointedly at the clothing that still graced Sam’s form and then up again with a butter wouldn't melt look. Having pushed Sam too far with the insubordination, his brother was clearly trying the other route of sweetness and light. Quite frankly, that was more suspicious than the rule breaking.

Sam made a soft grunt at the back of his throat and moved to grab the paper bag with the supplies he’d bought that morning. 

“How are you still talking?” Sam tossed back to him in half frustration, half amusement. Dean managed to shrug on the bed without getting up, and grinned back.

“It’s a gift.”

“It’s certainly something.” Sam agreed as he returned to the bed and eyed Dean thoughtfully, trying to calculate best positions. Apparently said thoughtful look sparked paranoid thoughts as Dean scowled at him in what was possibly embarrassment by the intense attention.

“You’re kinda making me feel naked.” he complained.

“You _are_ naked, Dean.” 

“That’s not the point.”

“Mm,” Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his calculations. Gently pushing the paper bag under the bed with his foot, he then moved to deposit some of the supplies at the other end. The Scouts always maintained that preparation was essential, although granted they almost certainly had different reasons. He was aware of Dean’s gaze fixed on him throughout, like a labrador tracking someone with a cookie.

“Not very good on the spontaneous, are you?” Dean commented after a minute in a pointed manner. 

“Probably about as good as your patience,” 

There was another little ‘pft’ in response, Dean’s chin resting comfortably on his arm as he watched. Sam shot him a look before smiling to himself. Occasionally his brother could be quite sweet, really. Briefly bending down to attach one of the handcuffs to the bed leg, Sam stood to find that Dean had shifted position again, this time edging a little closer. So much for beating the impatience out of him.

“You can wait.” Sam warned. The soft dismissive noise out of Dean suggested that this was debatable, setting his teeth on edge again. Yes, Dean was sweet but fucking infuriating. 

“What are you planning?” his brother squinted, trying to see what Sam had been doing, before looking up again curiously. 

Sam fixed his brother a warning look which only ended up with a helpless shrug.

“Sorry. You know I talk when I get nervous.”

“And every other damned time as well,” Sam added, then frowned as he reviewed that last sentence. “Nervous?”

Dean ignored that query. “So what the fuck are you going to use those clips for?”

“Oh. Nothing much.”

Dean looked unconvinced, although Sam didn’t entirely blame him. Thankfully he had something to distract away from unanticipated thoughts as Sam pulled off the remainder of his clothes, gently pushing them away with a foot as he did so and pretending not to notice the suddenly hungry look on his brother’s face that firmly stated that misbehaviour was high on the list of things to do.

Did he care? Probably not. He was hard as a rock and desperately not thinking about grabbing hold of his brother and simply fucking him into next week. The prospect of skin on skin action was certainly not something he was going to object to, and his brother wasn’t planning to disappoint. Sam managed to sit down for one second on the mattress before Dean pounced like a cat on a mouse, or, more appropriately, a starving man on a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onion rings.

For a good ten minutes it was enjoyable chaos. Sam had fallen backward with Dean’s hot and hard body over him, their mouths meeting in a furious exchange of kisses, limbs entwined and forcing the other to roll over every so often whenever one of them had an appropriate opportunity. Dean’s erection was pressed so hard into him that any movement seemed to generate a hiss of sensation, Sam fully aware of every shudder, moan and tremble that his elder brother gave.

One thing he did notice out of a sea of erotic images were Dean’s boundaries. Regardless of how hard they fought, biting, kissing, nipping, pinning and pummeling, Dean never went past a certain point. It was all skin on skin, touching, fighting turned loving and the occasional nip to Sam’s neck and shoulder - perhaps he should have fed him that bacon before they got going after all - but sexually wise it was all nudging and pressure and rubbing against surfaces, sensations that could be gained without deliberate sexual act. 

The corner of his mouth curled in a fond smile. Just as well Sam wasn’t quite so squeamish starting up sexual encounters otherwise this whole thing could be really frustrating. 

Sam allowed his hand to run across Dean’s shoulders and raked his nails down his brother’s back hard, enjoying the hiss and waiting until his brother was fully distracted before he shoved him down and enjoyed the second hiss as bruised ass hit the mattress in a very unforgiving way. He’d pinned Dean before his brother had had a chance to move, his forearm fixed across Dean’s neck as Sam smiled pleasantly down at his flushed and squirming brother.

“So, here’s what you’re going to do,” his voice was extra sweet with just a hint of steel behind it. “You’re going to stay put and let me do what I need to do. And yes, there is a consequence if you don’t do it. I would strongly - _strongly_ \- recommend you follow orders.”

Dean eyed him, trying to assess the bluff. Sam had no doubt his brother would fail at some point, but he had given him fair warning. Not every punishment needed physical strength behind it, and the Threat was currently sitting innocently in a paper bag. Still, there was no immediate cocky bastard language, which suggested that there might well be a point where Dean didn’t try to shoot himself in the foot and/or ball-sack, depending on what was most appropriate at the time.

Leaning forward, Sam gently pressed his mouth to Dean’s again, a firm kiss that he deepened gently and felt his brother respond perfectly to the movement. At the same time, his hand slipped across the smooth skin of his stomach, brushing over Dean’s groin, earning himself a soft gasp, and then calmly, persistently, moved between his brother’s legs.

For a moment he thought that Dean was going to fight him, his body tense and ready for action, until slowly he began to relax enough that Sam could nudge Dean’s legs apart a little wider. Sam tried not to see the reluctant and nervous flicker that crossed Dean’s expression, simply continuing the kiss as his fingers crept closer to its target. He felt his brother raise his hips slightly to help access, and Sam broke off the kiss breathlessly as he focused on getting this damned thing _right_. 

“..shit..,” muttered Dean, eyes closed and still trembling, but that seemed to be for his own benefit. Sam glanced at him carefully, before slowly circling the tip of his finger as best he could over the hidden entrance to his brother’s body and slowly, carefully, pressing it inside. He could feel Dean trying to relax, his eyes still closed and a look of intense concentration on his face as though Sam was asking him complicated Sudoku questions, but it wasn’t quite working. 

The situation didn’t last long as Dean bailed, rolling over in one swift move and surprising the hell out of Sam. They stared at each other for a moment, Sam uncertain whether he’d accidentally gone too far and Dean looking slightly distressed. Still, his brother wasn’t trying to either punch him or run out to his car, which had to be something. Right?

Finally Dean managed to get his vocal chords to work.

“Sam… Just tie me up to do this, okay? That image you had originally. Something like that. Please?” Dean’s eyes scanned Sam’s for approval. “This whole doing things nice thing ain’t working,”

Oh. Well, so much for romance, as it were. Apparently Dean had one way to do this, and currently it was rough and ready. Which kinda sounded like all his other relationships if Sam really squinted at it, but that was probably taking things a lot more seriously than they needed to get. If they analysed everything they’d probably end up massively depressed.

“What, the classic beat you, fuck you and then abandon you?” Sam frowned critically.

“Yeah, something like that.” Dean tried to make his voice light but his eyes were still dead serious. “C’mon Sammy, it’s what I’m used to.”

“I’m not abandoning you, Dean.”

“Really? Once this thing is over we’re gonna be doing this on a regular basis?” Dean gave him a look that stated firmly that Sam was one step away from graduating Idiot School, his voice strangely upset. “You know as well as I do that we’re gonna do this and then pretend the damned thing never happened.”

Sam stared back at him, uncertain on what was happening. “You have an alternative?”

“Fuck, no. But still. Do it rough.” there was a pause, and then a faintly embarrassed look. “Please.”

Rough was good for him, but it wasn’t exactly what he’d have hoped as Dean’s introduction into the sensation. Still, his brother had said please at least twice, which was more than he’d said it that year. If anything emphasised Dean’s sincerity it was genuine politeness.

“Fine.”

Well, this was a whole new level of Bad Guy and Sam felt it was probably better for everyone’s sanity to treat it like a parachute jump; just go for it and worry about hitting the floor on the way down. Sam pushed himself up and off the bed, and then grabbed hold of his brother’s ankle to drag him unceremoniously toward the end of the bed. Start as you meant to go on, after all, and a plan was slowly forming.

“Stand at the bottom of the bed with your ankles apart.” he ordered. What with all these changes this was turning into a dance routine. Dean opened his mouth to comment, caught the look in Sam’s eyes and wisely shut it again. Wouldn’t last of course, which is why Sam bent down to grab the ball gag and promptly shoved it into his brother’s mouth, buckling it briskly.

“Get on with it.” he repeated to slightly bewildered eyes. Dean scowled at him briefly, growled something against the gag and then grudgingly moved into position. Sam waited for a moment and then kicked Dean’s legs even wider before bending down and attaching one to a handcuff - Dean had remarkably neat ankles - and the other tied with a rope. Even if the rope failed, his brother wasn’t going anywhere without a rather sturdy metal companion.

“I’m not gonna tie your hands to make it more comfortable. This _will_ alter if you mess around,” he warned. There was a faint grunt of acknowledgement before Sam placed his hand in the small of Dean’s back and gently but firmly pushed him down until Dean was bent over with his arms automatically bracing himself on the bed and his body.. 

Mm. 

Sam made a small noise of approval. Now this was better. Dean’s legs were splayed open, the bonds ensuring he was going nowhere fast, and his bent position guaranteed the type of access that Sam’s mind had been so joyfully considering in fine technicolour detail. And this was getting into agony states, the throb between his own legs turning from persistent into damn right furious, and Sam had to wait for a moment for his own composure.

He took a deeper breath and slowly released it. Calm. Just calm. 

Well, that worked about as well as a cheeseburger to a drowning elephant. Acknowledging the fact his body was pretty much done with the whole ‘waiting’ concept, Sam hissed through his teeth and moved to grab the bottle of lube he’d secreted in a suitable nearby spot. Dean almost jumped out of his skin as the bottle top popped behind him and growled against the ball gag in embarrassment.

Not that this mattered. 

“Needless to say, don’t move.” Sam commented idly as he poured a reasonable amount over two fingers and then, after a pause, pouring directly onto the rise of Dean’s ass to allow the cool liquid to trickle over the rise of his ass. Dean almost leaped again from the temperature. Sam made a soft noise of amusement. Such a baby.

“Shhh,” he advised, standing close enough to brush against one of Dean’s thighs as Sam slid his slick fingers slowly but confidently down the crack of Dean’s backside and resting lightly on the entrance to his body. Dean shifted his weight automatically, a soft growl in the back of his throat for a moment before he lowered his head again. Sam waited but that apparently was the only objection that Dean was planning to give.

“Good boy,” Sam was finding it far too easy to go into Mr Bad Guy, realising that his voice was a little too evil. But this was damned good, far too good in fact. His fingers slowly stroked over the sensitive skin, sending further shockwaves through Dean until his older brother just stayed put and trembled, a soft whining noise against the gag in his mouth that was probably unheard by the man himself. A delicate finger tip circled, moving the lube around for a few more moments before Sam slowly and pressed forward again with two fingers.

For a moment, Dean’s body refused entry full stop; Sam could feel tight muscles clamping down, refusing such outrage, and the soft vibration of whatever growl Dean was currently giving, but Dean was clearly trying to relax and Sam was persistent. It didn’t take much more before his fingers slowly began to slide into the snug heat and settle at two finger joints deep. 

Dean had fallen silent other than a soft whine at the start, and Sam wasn’t sure he liked this turn of events. Slightly ironic really, he’d spent the whole damned time trying to shut his brother up and now that he’d achieved it Sam felt a little nudge of misgiving. Dean might be an irritating bastard sometimes but at least he felt reassured of Dean’s current train of thought at any one time; Dean silent was normally a _bad_ sign, but there were signs of hope. Sam could feel him trying to relax even further, Dean’s breathing deliberately slower as though he’d found a whole weird version of yoga, and after a while Sam began to slowly move the fingers in and out, over and over, cautious at first but building in confidence as Dean’s body opened enough for the movement to become smooth.

He couldn’t quite stop the grin from forming as Sam began to slowly twist his fingers, slowly corkscrewing them inside the heat of Dean’s body and receiving a soft gasp-grunt-whimper in reward for his efforts. Every so often there was a cautious little nudge back from Dean, although his brother was clearly not brave enough to plunge too hard. That was unsurprising; there had been a small complaint over the concept of hands and assholes and Dean had sulked over the fact that he might end up as a Winchester hand puppet. He might have messed around in the past but this was a whole new league than even Dean’s ego wasn’t happy about taking on.

Still, it was encouraging. Dean’s back had arched a little more, his muscles tense and trembling and his hands still curled up in the blanket as though he was in prayer to an unknown god. There were still soft noises but overall Dean was remarkably quiet, and Sam offered silent thanks to whoever invented ball gags. Clearly they needed a sincere letter of appreciation.

It was also getting harder and harder to fight his own urges. Sam slowly added another finger and earned himself a low groan from Dean as he was stretched further, millimeter by millimeter. A movement from Dean’s handcuffed foot caused an unexpected jangle from the ankle area but his little reactions settled again and Sam watched in fascination as Dean’s body slowly but grudgingly accepted his fingers.

Well. Now or never.

Slipping his fingers out carefully, Sam moved purposefully behind his brother with more confidence than he felt and forced himself to focus. He could feel the last minute concerns screaming at him as though a small angel on his shoulder - what the hell were they doing, this was his _brother_! - but there was a very sizable shoulder demon the other side who was still whispering all those bad things that Sam had wanted to do, and apologies to Bible Club but the demon was winning hands down. 

He was lined up within moments, the head of his very agitated cock pressing against the heat as Sam growled softly.

“Hold on,” he whispered softly, and slowly began to push; he managed to get a little way before stopping as muscles objected even harder to the size of the intruder, Dean dipping his head again and whine-panting loud enough to be audible as he clearly tried to force himself to relax. Sam eyed the tense muscles of Dean’s back, bit his lip and then pressed forward a little harder to breach the defences. 

“Nmpgh!” Dean’s back arched, any word he wanted to say muffled against the gag until it was just a mess of emotion, and Sam swiftly unfastened the gag with one hand to allow it to fall away. This was really not the time for uncertain communication, but Dean was clearly not in the same mindframe as a furious glare aimed itself back at Sam over his shoulder. Okay, apparently Dean really liked having something to yell into, but Sam was fully unrepentant. 

“Just relax,” he murmured, continuing to push. 

“Relax?!” Dean all but whined, his body unable to keep still. Sam could see Dean’s hands clenched in the blankets, so tight that the fabric was scrunched up and his knuckles white. “I’m gonna shove a bowling pin up your ass and then see how relaxed you are! Fuck! Ow!”

Sam allowed the little tirade. Dean did have a point, although apparently Mr ‘Please Make It Hurt’ might want to review his requirements. Not that Sam hadn’t been expecting that too. Playful fingers and small dildos were one thing, a hard and deep cock was something entirely different and he’d deliberately not stretched him out excessively to avoid Dean assuming foreplay was pointless and diving right into whatever the next weird and wonderful situation was. 

“Doing good, sweetheart,” Sam’s ability to talk was having similar concerns, and the ‘sweetheart’ accidentally slipped out. Massive understatement, though. This wasn’t just good, this was fantastic, and he closed his eyes briefly as Dean’s body hugged him tighter. Fuck. Like some weird velvety embrace, and it took all his effort not to pick up power in an attempt to stop Dean really feeling the full force. Sam’s fingers tightened on Dean’s skin to anchor them both and fought the need to whine himself. 

Thankfully Dean wasn’t in any fit state to care about rogue terms of endearments. There was another grunt-whimper, a plea mixed with desperation to the point where Sam was beginning to have misgivings until Dean quickly and unexpectedly decided to meet one of Sam’s thrusts with a slam backwards, impaling himself on Sam’s cock even deeper and undeniably harder. Holy fuck, even when he was getting his ass reamed his brother couldn’t take direction? If it didn’t feel so damned good Sam would be getting really irritated right about now. 

Of course it was here and now and he was essentially balls-deep in his own brother who seemed determined to skip the easy levels and move straight to the main boss.

“C’mon!” Dean panted, his words a desperate snarl. “Harder! If you want to make me your bitch, get on with it!”

There was a moment of woe that the gag was no longer gracing his brother’s presence, but such a polite request was hard to ignore.

“I should have beaten you harder.” Sam growled back.

“Yeah, you should have,” Dean huffed a breathless laugh. “But tough shit, baby brother. C’mon.”

And who was he to deny his big brother anything? Sam took a better hold of Dean’s hips and calmly and deliberately gave him what he asked for, hard enough that the bed frame shifted from the effort and the rhythm picking up enough speed that even Dean was turned speechless, Dean’s voice and breath hitching in shock. Sam smirked. Thought so. Dean’s eyes were too big for his stomach for more than just food.

On the other hand, being wrong had never stopped Dean from anything, and his brother’s persistence was really fucking up his own ability to calm down. Sam was already fighting his need to just take what he wanted, his body red hot and urgent and the muscles in his legs trembling, and, for reasons he really didn’t want to explore, the idea of Dean making half pleasure-half pain noises at each thrust was apparently a serious turn on. His brother had also started to push back again, trying to deepen the thrusts even further and Sam put some force into stopping Dean’s next couple of attempts.

This built Dean’s frustration just as much as his own.

“C’mon! You can’t say you don’t want this!” Dean snapped

“There’s a limit as to how much I want you bruised and bleeding at the end!” Sam snapped back and resisted the urge to lift a hand and punctuate that with a hard smack on Dean’s still sensitive rear. 

“ _Don’t care!_ ” Dean was about to continue this little thought when Sam growled and added more force to the mixture. Rhythm, speed, power, even the way his hands grabbed hold of Dean’s hips all increased with determination, and Dean’s voice cut off again as he scrabbled to respond to the onslaught.

Not that Dean was the only one suffering here. It was taking all Sam’s strength not to allow his orgasm to take over control, the soft throbbing turning into some damned monster until it was impossible to placate with ‘nice thoughts’ or counting the alphabet or something else. He growled loudly and in frustration, only to find his voice was apparently a boost to Dean’s need as well as his brother suddenly added his own strength to the movement, and jesus christ and all that was holy, he was utterly lost.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who required a map back to sanity. One slight accidental adjustment later and Sam’s next thrust apparently reached a Dean internal spot that had been well guarded; his brother all but howled, his back arching even harder, but this was the better type of howl, the one that spoke of pleasure and pain and need and a whole other angle of intensive sensation, and Sam would have paid it more attention had it not been for the fact that Dean’s body clamped down on his cock with such strength that his willpower wasn’t so much wiped out as annihilated.

To say he came hard was an understatement. Hell, for a few seconds he almost blacked out, only re-emerging as he shuddered his release deep into his brother’s body and his nails dug so deeply into Dean’s hips that he was pretty sure he was drawing blood. Not that his brother seemed to care, and for the moment neither did Sam.

He was still upright and that was something, although it was pretty damned clear his legs were only going to last a few minutes longer before they went on strike. And hell, Sam had work to do. Slumping a little, he ran his hand over Dean’s trembling back and slowly rested some of his weight against him, feeling his brother slowly relax again as Sam pressed a couple of hot, messy kisses to his neck and shoulders. Job wasn’t finished yet. His hand slipped around Dean’s body as he did so, Sam murmuring words of comfort as he found Dean’s hot and weeping cock and slowly began to stroke him

The whole activity didn’t take long, and that was probably a good thing. Hell, the cry as Dean came almost set him off again, rough and raw and oddly innocent, as though Dean had discovered a whole new life lesson as he shuddered through his own orgasm. Sam pressed another kiss to Dean’s shoulder and smiled fondly to himself as his brother tried to recover, uncertain which one of them was supporting the other anymore. 

As soon as Dean sounded like he was coming back to the land of the living, Sam dropped down to unfasten the restraints that had kept Dean’s mind sane. Reprieved from his semi-erotic prison, Dean attempted to keep his reputation intact but failed after a few moment and instead slid down to curl on the floor with a soft and heartfelt groan. Sam wasn’t about to complain. A solid surface was a solid surface, and he was pretty sure he was two seconds away from collapse as well.

Sliding down to prop his back against the bed, Sam ran his hand across his brother’s side and drew him a little closer. 

“Y’okay?” he murmured. Quite frankly, Dean looked slightly out of it, as though poisoned by some drugged cheeseburger, but a sleepy but warm smile confirmed that Dean seemed to have lost his voice but not necessarily his will to live. And good god, they had achieved full silence without a gag in sight. Sam hadn’t even thought that was scientifically possible.

For a moment they simply waited to catch their breath, Sam in his slouched seat and Dean curled up beside him like a human-kitten hybrid with Sam’s hand resting gently on his back. Sam groaned softly as he sank a little lower against the bed and then glanced toward his brother uncertainly. Everything seemed to be okay; Dean hadn’t yelled or fought or worse, given him those wide tear filled eyes whenever emotional shit _really _went down, but did that really mean that everything was still the same?__

__Sam’s hand started to gently stroke Dean’s waist, a feather like touch that was probably more for Sam’s own benefit than Dean’s. Still, his brother shifted his weight, stretched slightly and with a little wince, and then gave a small, sleepy grin._ _

__“Not bad,” his voice was croaky but that didn’t stop the obviously pleased tones to it. Dean squirmed slightly and managed to rest his head against Sam’s lap, where he sighed softly and closed his eyes again. There was a soft sulky noise as Sam stopped stroking him, and an accusatory eye cracked open again._ _

__“Keep going. S’nice,”_ _

__Sam let out a soft laugh and continued his ministrations, stroking him like a sleepy cat which, to a certain extent, Sam guessed he was. Relieved that he hadn’t seemed to have ruined their relationship, Sam settled back a little more against the bedframe and lazily looked out across the room as Dean purred softly._ _

__His smile hesitated. Oh, you had to be kidding him._ _

__Apparently the tension must have reached his thigh as there was another sleepy noise and Dean lifted his head, squinting at him uncertainly._ _

__“What?” Dean looked at him, and then followed Sam’s gaze. For a moment there was nothing as his brother clearly was hunting for whatever the hell it was. And then, suddenly, the penny dropped._ _

__Silence._ _

__“ _What?!_ ” No longer sleepy cat, Dean pushed himself up from the floor with a look of utter irritation. “You have to be fucking kidding me!”_ _

__They stared across to where the little box sat innocently, in all its woody glory._ _

__“Why isn’t it pink?” Dean growled roughly, waving a hand toward said box just in case the arm gesture might persuade it to change its mind. Sam closed his eyes wearily. Apparently there was still at least one tick box to complete._ _

__Well, when he’d recovered control of his body, anyway. And a shower wouldn’t go amiss either._ _

__God, life was great._ _

__TBC_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a bit of an odd turn, sorry. Knew I should have turned left at Albuquerque


	4. Chapter 4

It was the next morning and his ass hurt.

There were many other notable things in the world today, but that was the one thing that Dean couldn’t ignore regardless of what the fuck he did. It hurt. It hurt on multiple levels as well; the impact marks still throbbed whenever he sat down, the heat unnervingly painful and pleasurable at the same time to the point where Dean spent a lot of the time either pacing around or lying on his front in what looked like a significantly more relaxed version of what he felt.

And internally - man, that was an even weirder sensation. He’d played around before, sure, but this just made him feel he was still claimed in some way. There was a deep and suspiciously satisfying ache of a job well done, sore around the exit, and leg, back and butt muscles that were complaining of work trying to hold him up throughout. 

And worse? He wasn’t sure whether he minded. Which was fucking painful in itself.

The sound of the shower stopped and after a while Sam returned to the room, his hair dark and slicked back, a towel wrapped around his middle and a familiar wary-guilty expression whenever he met Dean’s gaze. And meeting Dean’s gaze didn’t happen often, he noticed. Sam was a king of finding other things to do, to the extent that Dean was half tempted to rip up some books in order to get his brother to just acknowledge him.

“Clean?” Dean drawled, finding his gaze automatically moving to the sleek form of his brother’s chest and berating himself for it. Sam shrugged slightly.

“Pretty well scrubbed.”

“Probably for the best. We’ve been pretty damned filthy recently.” Dean watched him again, and gave a soft half laugh as Sam glanced at him and then looked away as though his eyes were burned. “What?”

“Is there any reason why you’re still not wearing pants?”

“Yeah.” Dean drawled. “Me and fabric are currently not getting along. So sorry, little brother, you’re just gonna have to get used to a bit more nudity for a while.”

Sam winced. “Hurts that bad, huh?” his voice was slightly miserable, and Dean recognised that voice. That was the voice of someone who was firmly in The Morning After, when the drink and the drugs and the excitement had all calmed down and left them firmly in the clear light of day, and quite frankly the Clear Light of Day had a tendency to be an utter bastard.

“Hey,” Dean dropped his voice, a little softer. “It’s okay. It’s not bad.”

Sam gave him a look to state that he didn’t believe in the Easter Bunny either. Dean sighed through his teeth and shrugged. Hell, he was the one battered and bruised after the whole exercise. There was only so much hand holding he felt justified to give, although that reasoning really wasn’t working well with the rest of his head. Sam was his to protect, even in the more fucked up situations.

“Did you want any cream?” Sam asked carefully. Dean snorted a laugh.

“What, like whipped?” his voice was innocent. Sam huffed a soft laugh, and then shook his head.

“I’ve got some healing cream. Might help.”

“Where the hell do you get healing cream from for this sort of thing?” Dean queried with a frown, and then made a soft noise. “Nah. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “You want to sit down properly to prove that?”

There was a pause as Dean considered how far he wanted to push this.

“Even big boys like to lounge every so often,” Dean replied as casually as he could. “Seriously though, Sammy. I’m good. Awesome. It’s a bit bruised, I’ll admit, but that’s pretty much a normal evening for us, isn’t it?”

Sam let out a soft sigh. “We really have to find more wholesome hobbies,” 

“Yeah, well, what y’gonna do.” Dean resettled on the bed, and then perked up. “Did you get any extra food when you went out earlier? I’m starving,”

“You ate two cheeseburgers already for breakfast.” Sam was slightly incredulous. 

“Still hungry.” Dean complained, then offered a wide grin. “Feed me, Seymour.” 

Sam huffed another little sigh, although offered him a smile that looked almost genuine. Moving to pick up his jeans from where he had dropped them, Sam glanced across at Dean again who was still lounging nude on the bed as the most appealing option for the next few minutes. Dean exchanged the gaze and grinned ruefully. Oh, he knew that look. That was the look that Sam gave whenever he was toying with asking a question.

“Go on,” he drawled. “Out with it.”

Sam reacted as though he’d just suddenly found a maggot in his coffee. “What?”

“Whatever you’re trying to get the courage to ask. Get on with it.” Dean folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on it comfortably, still watching his little brother as he did his usual mental gymnastics.

“You just seem.. Uh.. ,” Sam waved a hand. “..happier than I’d have expected.”

Dean reviewed that. “Is that bad?” he asked carefully.

“Well, it’s a little confusing.” Sam replied uncertainly. “I mean, I did-,”

“I’m aware of what you did, my ass is still throbbing.” Dean replied lazily. “And I told you already, it’s okay. No, you didn’t assault me. Calm the fuck down, Sam.”

“So...did you like it?” Sam frowned at him, and Dean hesitated at the tone. That wasn’t a request for reassurance. That was genuinely a question on how Dean’s mind was planning to tick, and he looked back at his brother for a few seconds as he tried to digest a rather uncomfortable line of questioning. Did he like it? Well, that was fucking hard to define. Was he excited over some of it? Sure, his cock had been rock hard far too often for him to say otherwise, and the pull that Sam had was still damned intoxifying. But would he pick it out a line-up? 

“It had its moments,” he said finally. “Dunno whether I’d want to do it with anyone but you, though. But it’s kinda..,” Dean hesitated. “.. relaxing.”

There was a long pause in the room as Sam frowned even harder and even Dean reviewed that last word as an unexpected train of thought.

“Relaxing?” Sam said carefully.

“Uh.” Dean looked bewildered for a moment, as though someone else had stolen his vocal chords and vocabulary list. “Yeah.”

Another pause. There was a definite air of disbelief in Sam’s eyes but Dean reckoned he could also see another element flickering in his brother’s demeanor as well, the possibility that certainly some of it wasn’t all doom and gloom.

“Any specific bit?” It was like Sam was carefully quizzing the stand, not wanting to lead the witness. Dean groaned softly and settled down. Mental mathematics. Oh, for a day when they didn’t have to have some sort of self reflection, that would be _really_ relaxing.

“I don’t know, it’s hard to slice it all up.” he complained. “The pain means I’m only focusing on that, so there’s no whispers or words or concerns in my head happening at the same time. Not being able to move away means that whole decision tree is taken out of my hands, and I’ve got a whole orchard of decision trees already. One less is always pretty good,”

“You cling on to control like a monkey with a banana,” Sam pointed out

“Well, yeah. That’s my job. I look after you.” Dean replied automatically. 

“Well, could you _stop_ looking after me for a bit?”

Dean hesitated. “Possibly,” he allowed, uncertain himself.

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t finished.

“What about me?”

“What about you?” Dean wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading. 

“If you trusted someone else, would you be happy to do it with them? Is my involvement making you more or less relaxed?”

“This is kinda feeling like a fucked up version of that opticians test when they put glass up against your eye and ask you whether it makes the dot better or worse,” Dean complained. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason.” his brother’s eyes were calm and Dean didn’t trust them for a moment.

“That’s utter shit and you know it.”

“He’s asking,” came another voice, and Dean almost achieved whiplash as his head snapped around to stare toward the corner from whence it came. “Because he’s trying to work out how unhappy you’d be to cuddle up to him again in the future. Morning, boys.”

Dean pushed himself up to snarl, suddenly realised his complete lack of clothes and flopped back onto the bed again.

“You.”

The Trickster gave a winning smile. “Me.”

Dean was aware of Sam moving closer to the bed, body tense and wary as they stared as a united - if naked - front at the intruder. The Trickster eyed them back from his chair and then laughed-sighed.

“Oh, come now.” he said lazily. “If I wanted to hurt you then I could have done it easily by now. Give me a little credit.”

“Why are you here?” Dean found his voice a little shaky. 

“Honestly? I’m here to find out what’s going on, especially as you don’t appear to have set off the little box to pink yet.” The Trickster frowned toward the item in question still sitting on the nearby desk and then back again briefly. “Calm down, boys. I was going to compliment you on the quality of your work. Are you sure you both don’t fancy going into gay porn? We could make a fortune,”

“We’re good,” Dean gritted out. “Thank you.”

“Pity.” The Trickster tilted his head to one side, and glanced toward the box again. “So. You’ve got the penetration all sorted out - taking one for the team there, Dean, I like it - and therefore I assume you still have a few ‘new things’ to try to a sufficient level before it allows you to finish.”

“We tried a fuck ton of stuff,” Dean snapped.

“You were quite inventive, true. It was probably the timing.”

“The timing?” Sam frowned

“ _Probably_!?” Dean echoed at the same time. The Trickster held up his hands in a slightly submissive way.

“I don’t think you’re doing it long enough to mark itself as ‘done’. It’s like having a taste of everything at the buffet. You’ve tried a little bit but you’d probably not call that a meal.” 

Dean digested that, and glanced toward Sam, who gave him a slight shrug in return. Finally, Dean turned back to the Trickster who had propped his legs up on a nearby chair and was definitely making himself at home.

“And you care… why?” 

There was a weary noise that suggested that the ants were asking pointless questions again, before the Trickster smiled at him without a huge amount of fun behind it.

“Because, crazy as it sounds, I’d like you to finish your promise. I like your work and I can’t play with you at a possible later date if you’re still stuck on Escape Room One. And equally, I like this town so having them all accidentally decapitate themselves with a one in a million chance freak accident with a washing line and a sharpened hamster is a pain in the ass.”

“Then why did you put their lives at risk?” Sam asked in bewilderment.

Dark eyes turned to Sam in faint disgust. “Because you two won’t do anything unless there’s something horrendous at the end of it! In many ways this is all your fault.” 

They looked at him hard. The Trickster sighed and waved it off.

“Fine. Contrary to popular belief, I am not trying to make your lives miserable. That’s just a happy coincidence.” the Trickster relaxed back. “And don’t give me that look. Consider this a bonding opportunity, and see I didn’t take the opportunity for a ‘bondage’ pun there. If it was anyone else they’d probably have just forced you into it. Well, those creatures who wouldn’t have just gutted you whole, of course. Me? I prefer brotherly love.”

“They’d have failed.” Dean countered angrily. “I’d refuse.”

Another weary sigh that stated that the ants were really dim today.

“And if they gave you the option of either fucking your brother or they’d get someone else do it in front of you? Really?” The Trickster raised his eyebrow in interest. “Someone much larger than you, probably with a grudge against Sam - you boys haven’t exactly won yourselves any fans in the dark shadow lairs I’m afraid - no lube, fucking into him without preparation or even a hello, his legs tied apart so he can’t move away and he’s screaming in fear and agony in front of you, his eyes pleading with you to stop the pain, and the blood is trickling down his leg-,”

“Could we stop there, please?” Sam winced slightly.

“Mm? Oh. Apologies.” The Trickster looked at him thoughtfully, and then back to Dean who was still glowering. “You see? It could be much worse.”

“And why didn’t you go that route?” asked Sam carefully and Dean really wished his brother didn’t have quite such an inquisitive mind. Inquisitive minds clearly led to trouble, and the last thing he wanted was for them to accidentally give supernatural creatures ideas.

“Incredibly nosey of you there, Sammy, but I’ll let you off. Because I wanted to do it this way. Torture isn’t really my thing, not pain for the sake of pain. It’s better persuading you to do things you wouldn’t normally do, but it’s much more fun persuading you to do stuff that you actually secretly wanted and having to face that realisation for the rest of your life. I’m just a conduit.” 

“You’re just an asshole.”

“That too, but a conduit asshole. And a magical, powerful one so watch your tone, boy.” 

Dean snarled but fell silent.

“If you don’t want the accidental murder to go ahead,” Sam said slowly. “Then why don’t you just remove the luck penalty?”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but sadly it’s already there, much like a prophecy or a curse. Once it’s done, it can’t be undone unless you fulfil all the requirements,” the Trickster looked between them thoughtfully. “ I can probably get you a list of suggestions to complete it though.”

“Isn’t that sweet of you.” Dean hadn’t realised he could talk with his teeth gritted, but there you go.

“It is, isn’t it?” Trickster opened his hands. “Offer is there if you want it.”

Sam shifted closer to Dean’s side. “And if we finish this task,” he said slowly. “The arousal element dies away too, right?”

There was a slight twitch in the Trickster’s expression. Dean’s heart sank. Awesome.

“What?” he asked roughly.

“Well… slight issue with that one.” The Trickster looked between them and sighed softly, fingers drumming lightly on one thigh. “It’s not me causing it anymore.”

There was a very, very long silence.

“...what?” Sam’s voice was barely past a whisper. A look of faint discomfort crossed the Trickster’s expression.

“Look. My stuff probably wore off after about a day. Rest of it is all you guys.”

“You mean this is _permanent?!_ ” Sam looked like he was about to have a heart attack. 

“Fuck off, you’re lying.” Dean snarled

“It’s a fair assumption but no, this is all on you.” the Trickster tilted his head slightly, then offered a slow smile as he studied them. “It’s kinda adorable, though. All those years you’ve both been keeping these erotic thoughts locked up in your minds about each other. Unfortunately that’s kinda the way it is with secrets. Once the box is unlocked it’s damned hard to get them back in there and shut away again. Ask Pandora, she never shuts up about it.”

Sam still looked white and Dean resisted the urge to pat his brother’s thigh to calm him down. Probably not the best idea given the audience.

“Are you sure you can’t .. well, reduce the feelings?” Sam asked a little pitifully. The Trickster gave him an incredulous look.

“Reduce love? Of course not, did you learn nothing from those countless romance comedies you watched as kids?”

“There was nothing else on,” Dean countered hotly.

“Excuse duly noted, you can get your panties unbunched now, Cowboy.” the Trickster looked from one to the other. “Aww, I know it’s a shock now, but it’s not so bad. You’re not doing anything that you wouldn’t be doing if Society and the World hadn’t stopped you.”

“Very debatable.” Dean snarled. 

“Pft. You’re out of the flush of arousal, you’re into something more solid. And you fit each other anyway,” The Trickster adjusted himself. Sam shook his head.

“This is another trick, trying to convince us this is real.” 

“Do I really need to convince you it’s real?” The Trickster raised an eyebrow. “Really? I mean, doesn’t all of this just feel a little familiar throughout your life? Whenever you look at each other? You think every time you had a little throb of excitement at the concept of spanking from your teens until .. well, now .. was just me? And that specific example was aimed at both of you, incidentally.”

Dean was very conscious of not looking at his brother, and was pretty sure Sam was going to be avoiding his gaze as well. Yeah, moving on.

“You see? Match made in heaven.” there was a soft laugh, dropping to a lower murmur. “In a manner of speaking..,”

The Trickster focused on Sam, who didn’t look enthusiastic about the sudden attention.

“Aw, Sammy, don’t be like that. You’re finally getting the action you craved.” The Trickster looked at Sam thoughtfully, who had a defensive, slightly flushed look to his cheeks. “You’re darker than I’d expected. Sure, you’d had a lot of fun fantasies but a lot of people don’t really carry it out, or if they do, it’s kinda a play version. You? I like the burning you get when you do it. Really quite hot to watch, the way you get all intensive. Beautiful.”

Dean lifted his head up, wary of the expression on Sam’s face that wasn’t quite anger but wasn’t quite comfortable, Sam’s jawline rigid as he kept quiet. The protective nature bubbled up even further, not that it had been having the best of times as it was.

“Hey. Stop it.” Dean growled.

“How’s your backside, Dean?” The Trickster tossed back at him, his eyes not leaving Sam.

“Not the point.” the words were gritted out again. “Leave him alone.”

“Of course,” their current adversary turned its attention back to Dean with a winning smile.   
“let’s not forget about you! You enjoyed yourself as well, didn’t you Dean? You wanted him inside you, just taking you away from life for a moment. Loved every little painful moment, and you hated yourself for it, right? For a moment I thought you were actively going to persuade your brother to fully break you. So much easier when the pain is on the outside rather than the inside, isn’t it?” 

Trickster tsked sadly, and cocked his head to one side. “Although it must have been hard to navigate for poor Sam here, considering how far your head is rammed up your ass already.”

Dean’s fist clenched, pushing himself off the bed automatically and nudity be damned. “Shut the fuck up you-,”

“Okay, okay, stop. Please.” Sam held up his hands and stepped forward to insert himself between them, a towelled protector of the peace. “Let’s just focus on the problem, okay?”

“The situation,” corrected the Trickster. “Problem suggests regrets.”

“Okay. Sure. The situation,” Sam gave a winning smile and gently placed his hand on Dean’s chest, gently pushing him back again. “Calm down, Dean. It’s okay.”

“Oh, it so isn’t.” Dean’s fists hadn’t unclenched. Hell, he would be surprised if they unclenched before Christmas.

The Trickster was watching them in genuine delight, like a middle aged school mom watching her favourite soap opera.

“Aww, I love this. You’re like my own little pet cats. Territorial, have a habit of hissing and making gestures with claws but normally not following through with it, bringing in small dead things as gifts, curling up together even when you’re in a hissy fit, and being really cute with little toys. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pair of you had a fixation with cardboard boxes as well.” The Trickster paused as though considering something.

“If you turn us into cats I’m going to be _really_ fucked off.” The words were out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop them. 

“Okay, okay. Transformations are hard anyway, and I’d not want to take the risk you’d both be captured by a well meaning rescue and accidentally neutered.” the Trickster replied idly. “You’d lose a lot of your fun if you lost your sexual aggression.”

“Definitely no accidental neutering, please,” Sam added, and hastily swapped the subject. “You said you had a list of possibilities that we could complete?”

The list was created with essentially a snap of the fingers and handed to Dean who grudgingly glanced at it, and then squinted.

“I don’t know half of these.” he complained.

“Give it to your brother.” Trickster advised. The paper was handed over and Sam eyed it carefully. 

“Yeah, I’m familiar,” Sam sighed. Dean looked at him incredulously. Sure, some of them he knew but there were a ton of random words and names and things that sounded really innocent which he bet were probably some of the worst offenders.

“ _How_? What the fuck do you get up to in your research sessions?!” Dean complained. His brother had a tendency to do unexpected things and now he apparently knew all the numbers off some Kinky Bondage List of Hell. Silence might be golden but clearly it was up to something as well. A muscle in Sam’s jaw twitched.

“There’s only so much 15th century literature you can take in a period. Don’t give me that look, I’m aware of your porn sessions online.” There was a warning edge to Sam’s tone that Dean happily ignored.

“That’s research as well.” 

“Uh huh.” Sam folded his arms and stared back at him, unimpressed. For a moment they glared at each other, before a soft cough from the corner brought them back to current events. Oh yeah.

“Much as I love these discussions of yours, a few words of advice,” there was another little word from the Trickster. “If you are planning to try some more things out, Dean, you’re gonna have to relax a bit. Half of these are like a dance, and it’s damned hard to dance if both people are trying to lead. So I may be hypocritical to say this, but you must stop fighting your brother.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s eyes were dark although he grudgingly accepted there might be some truth in that. “You got family issues too, huh?”

The Trickster gave him a rueful smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

There was a little pause and an eyebrow rise. “Incidentally, I could always stay and you could tick off your ‘Exhibtionalist’ badge.”

“ _No_ ,” they managed to chorus it effortlessly. There was a little tut toward this, before the Trickster shifted position and slowly stood up.

“Your loss. Have fun, boys. Just get it done, hmm?”

And with that, he was gone.

*

“So.”

It had reached nightfall, and Sam had finally reached the point where he was ‘so’-ing. Dean grunted and took another mouthful of the beer he had been nursing for a while, having started his alcoholic swim half an hour after the Trickster had vanished and was now slowly stretching out the supplies they had left. The world wasn’t much better but at least it was slightly more fuzzy.

“If you’re about to suggest a plan,” he commented, his eyes still trained on the beer can. “I’m still not sure my ass can currently take it.”

Sam sighed softly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to suggest doing anything tonight, other than possibly restocking your beer supplies.”

Dean perked up. Additional beer supplies was certainly a plan he could fully get behind. He glanced over to his little brother who had been previously busy on his laptop, tapping away, reading something or other, and occasionally making some little grunting noises in thought. Dean had been pretty sure that Sam had watched him every so often, probably in assessment, but he’d deliberately not responded to that. Hadn’t really been in a mood for a chat, fuck knew where that would have led them. Sure, he’d looked up automatically whenever Sam stood from the chair to do something - snack, or bathroom, or whatever else happened to be around - but that was almost in his blood. He wasn’t sure what he was worried Sam would do, but this was his brother; he’d find something. And anyway, it was what a good watchdog did.

“Okay.” he took a longer swig of beer. “Sounds good.”

There was another meaningful silence to suggest that Sam had a topic. Dean tried to ignore it for a while, before he sighed in defeat. 

“Go on.” 

There was nothing, most likely because that hadn’t been the most convincing tone in the world. Dean sighed and waved a hand toward him to indicate that, yes, words needed to happen before they both went nuts. Finally Sam took the hint.

“I’ve had a look at the list.” his voice was cautious. “Gone through a few suggestions, that type of thing.”

Of course it would be. Dean gave a soft laugh that didn’t have much humour behind it. “Thought you knew all there was about Kinky 101.”

“Just because I recognise the names doesn’t mean I have experience in it.” Sam replied, a little tightly. Oh yeah, his brother was tense, which definitely didn’t bode well for where this conversation was headed. Perhaps he should be rethinking the cream. Dean waved the beer can in defeat and then settled back against the bed frame again. No, he wasn’t going to get into how and why his brother knew all this stuff. The apparent hidden life that Sam had managed to keep secret, and how the hell was that even possible? No one mentioned to him the possibility of a part time pervert.

Still, they had a task to do, and this wasn’t Sam’s fault. Probably. Dean shoved it on the back burner and bullied his voice to sound a little less sulky.

“Can I take it you’ve narrowed it down to a few interesting suggestions?”

Sam hesitated, although was clearly happier with the improved tone. “I don’t want to make you feel forced here..,”

“Pft,” Dean held out his hand for the list. Shit happened. Might as well get on with it. There was another hesitation and Sam crossed to the bed, handing over the handwritten list where he’d put a few ticks and several very hard crosses against certain lines. Fuck sake. There were at least thirty suggestions written in a pretty script, which suggested that humanity had been really busy getting their kink on.

Dean ran his eye down the list, more interested in the ones that Sam had vetoed with a vengeance than the ones that he had cautiously ticked as a possibility.

“What the fuck is ‘vore’?” he frowned at the page where a very heavy cross suggested that Sam was definitely not happy with that little suggestion.

“You don’t want to do that one. Bit too lethal.” Sam replied casually. Dean stared at him over the edge of the paper.

“That’s not really an explanation.”

“I’m aware.” Sam paused. “And don’t google it before we’re finished, please.”

Dean eyed him for a moment, then moved back to the list. “Your sexual world is a scary place, Sammy.” he commented, then frowned. “ _Diapers?_ Well vetoed there. Breath play..,”

Breath play, huh? His finger tapped idly in thought, a few images already coming to mind with that one. Sam shook his head.

“Not willing to put you at risk.” 

“Mm.” Significantly more happy to put himself at risk, Dean’s noise was thoughtful and his finger continued its little tapping song. This apparently surprised his brother who lifted his head further and a careful look aimed itself at Dean.

“Wait.. you’re _interested_ in that?” he said cautiously.

“Well, interested is probably a bit strong.” he clarified, pretty sure he was lying but not entirely knowing the extent himself. Sure enough, Sam eyed him with the keen eye of one who had watched most of Dean’s expressions and excuses over the years, and looked even more incredulous. Damn people and their ability to be observant. 

“You want to be choked?” Sam’s voice was turning curious. “With what? Hands? Rope? Arm across the windpipe?”

And this was definitely turning into a conversation that Dean was keen to avoid. 

“Okay, okay, just commenting, you don’t have to get technical.”

Sam sighed. “I’m interested in what things turn you on, Dean,”

“Aren’t I a lucky boy?” Dean was getting fed up with being under the microscope. Couldn’t let a pervert just be a pervert. Turning back to the list, he hoped his brother would take the hint. “There’s a dot against Figging, is that a yes or a no? And what the fuck is that, something involving fruit?”

His hope failed. Typical.

“You’re avoiding the question,”

“And you’re being fucking annoying!” Dean glared back at him. “Look, I know you’ve been thinking about this type of thing for a really long time, I get that, but this is pretty new to me. Give me a chance to get over it, and if you really wanted to help, give me a back massage.”

Sam looked at him with his eyes slightly narrowed, clearly unimpressed. Dean growled in his throat and turned back to the list again. And this was crazy, the whole situation. It was like they were choosing from the world’s weirdest takeaway menu. He’d take 10 and 15 and hold the pinwheels.

His avoidance technique was also failing him. Finally Dean sighed and lowered the paper again, glancing across at Sam.

“Okay, you really want to know which ones out of these I’m considering? The breath play thing. Spanking we’ve probably done-,”

“I dunno. They’d probably want us to do more of a meal of it.. Say, over the knee thing.” Sam’s voice was thoughtful now that he had been given a new topic to think about. “We’ve only done a few light taps. Business as usual, really.”

Green eyes studied him again, this time with a hint of amusement. “You saying you want to spank me, Sammy?”

“Uh.” Sam clearly wasn’t expecting a direct question. Dean waved a finger at him dramatically.

“Surely I should be the one doing that to you? I’m the eldest, and I’ve got a whole list of stuff you misbehaved with. Especially going to bed on time,”

“This is coming from a guy who vanishes off for hours when he gets frisky in the bars?”

“Every time I turn around you’ve fucked off somewhere and normally got yourself in trouble.” Dean countered.

“You don’t eat your vegetables.” Sam paused. “I’m not even sure you know what vegetables [i]are[/i],”

“You don’t tidy your room.”

“Neither do you, we don’t have a room to tidy!” Sam protested. “And you talk back all the time, and then there’s the whole fraud, theft and murder suspect thing.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Sam laughed and Dean grinned back at him. This was more like it. Back as a team rather than Sam getting into a little ball of intense need and anxiety and Dean feeling he was playing catch up with a whole new universe of crazy talk.

“Well, aren’t we naughty.” Dean commented, and raised the paper again. “Uh. Well, on top of that, I’m good with water sports, mostly because I know that one and it’s not exactly difficult, Electrostimulation sounds genuinely fun as long as it’s not got anything weird hidden in it but I assume we don’t have the equipment for that, and isn’t there one that messes around with wax? I see that all the time in the porn shoots, and we normally have enough candles for at least two decent blood rituals. Torturing me for a bit should be no problem at all.”

Sam watched him thoughtfully. “How many of those are stuff you fantasize about?”

“Depends how much drink I’ve had,” Dean replied cheerfully. “Never for the electro-stuff, didn’t know it was a thing outside of really dedicated Pokemon fans. Why?”

“Just wondering about the box’s terms and conditions.”

“What, we need to be turned on at the time?” Dean flickered his gaze to Sam and then back again at the list and pretended not to feel the heat in his face. “Yeah, I doubt that’ll be a problem.”

“So you are?” Sam pressed. Perhaps he did have lawyer in the blood.

“Sammy,” Dean dropped the list a little and sighed, staring in front of him trying to work out the best way to say this and deciding to just get on with it. “I like sex. I _really_ like sex, and I especially, so help our souls, like sex with you. So these things? Regardless of what you want to do, I’m pretty sure I’m up for it.”

There was a pause. “As long as I’m still alive at the end of it.” Dean added. “So necrophilia is off the list if it was ever on there in the first..,” there was a rustle of papers. “Oh. Yeah. It is. Well, that’s fucked up.”

“To be fair, in our line of work necrophilia is a little easier to do accidentally. Sexy undead and all that,” Sam moved across and perched himself on the edge of Dean’s bed as casually as he could, which wasn’t that good. Dean looked at him for a moment before sighing and calmly leaning across to drag him onto the bed further.

“Sammy, we’re in private. Let’s get a bit of the comfort out of this situation rather than just sex, okay?” 

HIs brother looked unsure but willing. Well, that was a start. Taking hold of Sam’s shirt, Dean pulled him into a light kiss before letting him go and deliberately turning back to the list as his younger brother tried to gather his thoughts. And that was just a kiss; Dean’s groin was already stirring in interest, and Sam seemed flustered enough to suggest that wasn’t just a Dean thing. 

Doomed. Utterly.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed softly, and then offered him a little boy smile that all but melted his heart before settling next to him. Dean waited until Sam had got himself comfortable and then gently pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned back to the Erotic Menu of FuckedUpNess.

“So, we make a decision? And I hope they serve extra poppadoms with it.” 

Sam made a soft noise of agreement. “How many did we have to do again?”

“Three. But unless we’re planning to do them all at exactly the same time, which would be damned flexible on both our parts, we should be able to do them step by step and see whether we have achieved pinkness.” Dean frowned at the paper again. “What’s Shibari? Sounds like an expensive cat food.”

“Complicated.” Sam replied with feeling. “Water sports sounds a better idea. No need for a manual and the shower’s big enough.”

“Taking pissed to a whole new level.” Dean stretched slightly. “You know… once you’re over the general mental mountain of appropriate behaviour, this is kinda.. easy.”

“Yeah, let’s not say that out loud just in case life wants to add extra bits to it.” Sam sighed, and gently pulled Dean into a short embrace, brushing their lips together and purring softly deep in his throat. “But yeah. Out of the things we’ve seen so far, it.. Could be worse.”

“Deeply flattered there, Sammy.” Dean replied lazily, holding his hands out as though creating a hollywood movie poster. “Dean Winchester - ‘Could be worse’. Makes me all tingly.” 

Of course that didn’t seize the monopoly on tingly moments, and Sam was clearly keen to add to them; Dean slid lower onto the bed as Sam decided to get brave, choosing that moment to straddle his brother’s legs and lean over him with a silent question in his eyes that bravery couldn’t quite generate the power to get said. Dean huffed another laugh and grabbed another handful of Sam’s shirt, pulling him into a deeper kiss.

“We’re damned already. Might as well enjoy it,” he advised. “And I thought dominant type people were more.. Y’know. Bossy.”

Sam relaxed. “I’ve been told I’m headstrong, does that count?”

“I thought that was more for horses.”

“I think that’s head shy.”

“Oh. Well, something called pony play was on the list as well-,”

“ _No._ ” 

“Yeehaw, buckeroo.” Dean gave him a lazy half grin, and pulled him into another kiss. “But seriously. You want to get your Mr Hyde persona on, let me know. I’ll try to keep the backchat down to a mere Generally Annoying.”

And he could have said anything he wanted right about now because his brother clearly wasn’t listening; Sam’s eyes were almost demon-dark in the light and the look on his face was hungry enough to impress a hell hound. Intense, sure. Hell, whenever Sam looked like that Dean wasn’t entirely sure whether he was being sized up as a fuck mate or someone to punch in the face, but he was willing to put his chips on the first option and hope the pharmacy was open for the second.

Shifting slightly, Dean managed to pull off his t-shirt and looked pointedly at Sam until his brother did the same. Well, this was better. He was about to open his mouth to speak when he was beaten to the punch yet again - thankfully not literally - with Sam’s mouth on his own, hard and hot, and Sam’s hands tracing their way across his ribs. Not to be outdone, Dean deepened the kiss even further, one hand sliding across Sam’s chest and brushing over a nipple, which was tweaked sharply. A sharp intake of breath and a flash of a sharp look suggested that this might not have been the best idea, before Sam smiled again - a slightly evil smile, if Dean thought about it - and bent his head to nip him on the neck like a starving vampire.

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. Oh yeah, if vampires were more like this then he’d volunteer to be the main course on a regular basis.

“I have a suggestion,” Sam murmured.

“Mmghpgh?” Dean didn’t care. His brother could propose killing off the president right about now and he would still be significantly more concerned about the mouth on his neck, the hands tracing down his sides and the way Sam’s ass deliberately circled on his groin. Fuck. And an extra fuck for good luck.

“Would tick off one of the boxes.” Sam ground his body a little harder, a little more deliberately, watching when Dean responded the most beautifully and then adding extra sauce on top of that.

“Mmgh.” Dean agreed.

“Might hurt a bit.” Sam hesitated slightly, and Dean huffed a laugh at that. Story of his life. Hell, he’d probably get injured returning a library book.

“S’fine.” he replied lazily when it was clear that Sam was waiting for more than a snigger. “M’adaptable.” 

“Technically it’s more a punishment.” Sam mused again, but Dean knew that voice. That wasn’t really considering anything, that was Sam’s tone he used whenever he’d already come up with a decision and was pretending to take other people along on the ride with it. 

“Yeah, like 80% on that list,” Dean pressed his hips higher and groaned weakly as the sensation he was craving tried to kill him off with intensity. “Sam, I’m in. Stop with the hard sell.” he paused, then tested the waters. “Sir.”

Well, that didn’t entirely go the way he’d planned as Sam lifted his head, startled. His hips stopped their wonderful circular movement and Dean whined for its return, opening his eyes and looking at his brother uncertainly. What? Wasn’t this what they were supposed to be doing? Obedience and deferment and posh titles and other shit that people did when they were being respectful. Jesus, his brother’s manual was harder to work out than he’d thought, and his expectations had been incredibly low to start off with.

“Don’t mock me.” It was a very serious voice.

“Do I look like I’m in a position to want to mock you?” Dean protested. “C’mon Sammy, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Sam eyed him with the wary eyes of one expecting a practical joke. Dean held up his hands in surrender.

“Scout’s honour,”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“Well, I’ll kidnap one later,” Dean squirmed under his brother’s weight, trying to encourage him on. Thankfully Sam’s body was in the same agreement as Dean’s as there was another cautious look before there was a look of - happiness? Slightly different pleasure? - whatever it was, it made Sam’s eyes gleam happily and a boyish grin that made him look even younger, and a mouth was pressed onto Dean’s hard in an unexpected but fantastic pounce.

“Good.” Sam breathed. Dean shifted again and they both had to take a moment to recover their breaths as bodies met in a perfect alignment that was god near obscene. Obscene was damned good. Best scene there was, in fact.

“Get up, get undressed, and get back on the bed on your hands and knees,” Sam continued, still in the hushed, husky voice he had been using as though they were trying to avoid upsetting the people in the next motel room. “How much can your ass take?”

“It’ll be fine.” Dean put the palms of his hands on Sam’s chest and gently but firmly pushed him back so he could get up. Damned straight it would be fine. He’d make it so. 

Less than half a minute later he’d dumped everything on the ground in a careless pile and crawled back onto the bed, feeling a little exposed but nothing he couldn’t handle. He could see Sam pulling off clothes out the corner of his eye, Dean grinning to himself and shifting his position slightly for more stability.

“One question,” Sam spoke from behind him, although gave a little growl when Dean automatically started to glance round. “And eyes front, please.”

Dean sighed but looked forward again. This was definitely something that was going to take time to get used to.

“Yeah?”

“You were pretty against oral anything last time we spoke,” Sam replied after a brief hesitation. “Does that include all mouth related activities?”

Dean frowned and ran that one through his head again. That was the trouble with Sam trying to be polite, half the time he was never 100% sure what his brother was talking about.

“Which particular mouth related activities were you considering?” he said cautiously.

“Rimming.”

“Oh.” Dean tried to find some other words on top of that but failed to get past the first one. Finally he frowned, although due to the position only the headboard got the true benefit of that. “Uh. Isn’t that..,”

“That’s the one involving tongue and hole.” Sam provided helpfully.

“Oh.” There were many words going through his mind but ‘oh’ seemed to tie it all up well together. “Just to be clear, whose tongue and whose hole?”

“My tongue. You can work the rest out for yourself.”

“Oh.” That word was going to win a medal of honour for services to Dean-kind.

“It’s an additional thing, that’s all. Thought I’d mention it, since you’re currently laid out like a Winchester buffet.” Sam seemed remarkably casual about everything. Dean was just thankful he couldn’t see himself in any mirrors at this point, given that his cheeks were embarrassingly red. “I take it you never tried it with any of the girls you were with.”

“I can’t say it ever came up as a good idea at the time,” Dean replied truthfully. “I mean.. I guess so.. As long as i’m in this position though.”

The bed dipped a little as Sam got on, Dean suddenly freezing from sensation as his brother’s warm hand rested gently on the rise of his ass. 

“Understood.” Sam gently stroked his hand over Dean’s rear, innocently at first before sliding down and brushing gently over his balls and along the achingly hard shaft. Dean’s breath caught in his throat and refused to come out, his back slightly arching in a silent plea as Sam toyed with him gently. Oh, this was not fair.

Staring ahead whilst really wonderful but really, really unnerving things were happening behind him was also making him twitchy. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed as Sam’s hand oh so lazily stroked over his length, expertly running the ball of his thumb over the sensitive tip and finding intense spots that Dean didn’t even realise he had.

Stay still, stay still, stay still. Dean frowned toward the headboard as though it was guilty of multiple crimes, his bottom lip bitten and his legs spread a little further, although that seemed to be pure instinct rather than calculation. His breathing was picking up a little, rough around the edges, and he forced himself to calm, to take deep cleansing breaths which of course were absolutely fucked over as soon as Sam moved his hand again and _fuck_ -

“Unless you want me to mess up the bed in a big way, might want to lay off the touch for a second..,” Dean panted. Sam paused, then chuckled softly.

“I disagree.” his hand moved again, this time more dexterously, and there was something wrong with Dean’s vision again. A squeeze made him all but blackout, his whine caught in the back of his throat as though he might scare things off if it escaped. Sam waited for him to recover slightly before he began again, hand on Dean’s cock and slowly but confidently finding his rhythm. Slow. Steady. Designed to torment and Dean’s hands dug hard into the blankets with the strength of one trying to tear through them.

“Can I move?” his voice was raw and breathless.

“No.” He didn’t need to see Sam’s expression to know his little brother had his best sly smile on his face. Dean swore privately and dropped his head, trying to fight the very real need to explode in a very pleasurable way. Steady. Steady.

He was almost getting to the point where he thought it might be under control when a sudden warm and wet sensation applied itself liberally although extremely delicately to his hole; Dean felt every single muscle freeze in full as the tip of Sam’s tongue began to lazily trace around the ring, every so often giving a little kitten lap before continuing in its exploration. In a little display of dexterity, his brother’s hand didn’t stop with its rhythmic stroking, often working perfectly with the little darting sensations of pleasure coming from the rear.

There were many words Dean would have liked to say, but whatever came out of his mouth was strangled enough that even he didn’t know what it was supposed to be.

Stay still, stay still, stay still-

Oh, and _breathe_ , you idiot-

This wasn’t fair. This was a whole exercise designed to make him suffer, and fine, that was generally the same plotline as his life, but ordinarily that was done by people who didn’t like him. Sam was playing him like an instrument, finding every single button that could possibly be pressed, and Dean gritted his teeth. It was fucking glorious, but fucking hard to admit.

Not that his mind could take much else other than just focusing on what his brother was doing. Dean made another strangled noise as the tongue lapped against the base of his cock and suckled softly on his balls for a moment before retreating back and then, with a calm that Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t have felt, gently inserted the tip into him with the same weird grace he’d used before.

Dean had to fight from leaping off the bed. 

“Fuck!” his hands were scrambling on the mattress, trying to find an escape route without him actually wanting to take it. There was another little lick, and then a pause.

“Still there, Dean?”

Now that was debatable. Dean’s whole body felt like it was trembling, his breathing still shaky and feeling so damned hot despite the fact that there was a cool chill in the room. He made another soft noise, then shifted his hips.

“Can I come?” Please god, let him come, before sensations took that particular issue out of both of their hands. Sam chuckled softly.

“So you’re at that point already, huh?” Another dip, another lazily lick like Dean was the world’s tastiest ice-cream, and a squeeze-twist of the hand that didn’t so much almost push him off the edge as fire him off it with a catapult. C’mon, let him come! Dean whined again and tried to shift his hips into it.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” Sam breathed. “We got to try that thing I talked about.”

Jesus, he didn’t care. Smack him with some sort of spikey ruler, electrocute his balls, insert a blowup whatever, _just let him come_. Dean growled shakily.

“Well, do it!”

There was a little pointed silence. Dean sighed.

“Well, do it, _sir_ ,” he amended. There was a pleased noise and the bed dipped again as Sam stood up and walked to the side of the bed to fish out the paperbag he had stashed away. Dean watched him with all the attention of one whose brain was working at 25% percent, and frowned as Sam gave him another cautious look.

“What?” Dean frowned. Hell, how bad could this be? 

His heart had a little leap as Sam pulled out a flick-knife, before hesitating as another thing was produced from the depths of the bag. A greyish nobbly thing. Definitely not what he expected.

“Uh. What _is_ that?” 

Sam was busy peeling, and a familiar scent drifted to him. Dean sniffed, and then frowned in bewilderment. 

“Is that ginger?” Pause. “ _Why_ do you have ginger?”

“This is figging.”

Dean digested that and still found many, many questions.

“And this turns sexual how?” he eyed the piece of ginger as though it might explode on him. It wasn’t that big, having been peeled down to about the size of a thumb if that, and Sam had deliberately kept the main lumpy bit at the end during his whittling. Dean lifted his eyes again to look at Sam in question. “What, it makes things taste a bit better?”

Sam chuckled to himself. “A bit, but that’s a side effect.”

“So, what, you’re going to put that in my ass? Kinda a fruity butt plug thing?” Dean was still struggling to see why this might have its own list number. Plugs were all very well but this would be small even for the limited ones that he’d tried. “Do you get extra points because it’s environmentally friendly or something?”

“Something like that,” Sam replied, with a cheerfulness to his voice that Dean didn’t quite trust. Oh yeah, something was up with this. 

“Sammy, I’m not a pie. I don’t need spices.” Dean watched him warily.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense.”

“That would be a novelty, nothing in this past week has made sense,” Dean argued, and suddenly found even more caution in the fact that Sam was letting him talk back. Why? His brother still had a slightly satisfied gleam in his eye too, but shit, this was a piece of fucking ginger. It went in bread and cookies and drinks and christmas bakery. How fucking scary could this be?

“Two things.” Sam all but strolled back, and Dean reckoned his brother would have skipped if there was space. “Number one, you need to be respectful at all times, otherwise this lasts longer. Number two, you _cannot_ move. If you prefer, I can tie you down so you don’t get the temptation.”

“What?” Dean glanced around and winced slightly as Sam gave him a whack on the ass to stop it. Growling, he looked back at the headboard again. “Ah, it’ll be fine. Just do what you’re gonna do, and make sure that fucking box has a good view. Please.”

“Understood.” There was a little noise that spoke of lube coming out of a bottle - lube, for that size? Bit of an overkill, Dean reckoned - and he stiffened automatically as Sam’s fingers gently applied it directly to his ass. Fingers left, and Dean waited. And waited. And fuck sake, Sammy knew how impatient he was, this was crazy.

“Are you-,” he began, when he felt the nudge of something harder pressing against the entrance to his body. Dean quietened down and widened his legs slightly to allow Sam to push the thing slowly and reasonably smoothly into his body, where the little nook at the end allowed it to settle relatively comfortably. And yeah, that wasn’t particularly scary; he could feel it in there, a hard element where things were normally soft, but it wasn’t really large enough to do anything other than make him aware of his ass.

He shifted slightly, uncertain what he was supposed to be doing.

“Uh.” he said softly. “Is your ginger on the blink?”

Perhaps it was a really weird way of ensuring people had their fruit and veg 5 a day, just an alternative way. 

“It’s okay. Might take a moment, was a bit warm. Normally it’s better chilled.” Sam still seemed very relaxed, strolling back to the front of the bed and perching himself on the pillows as he watched Dean. Well, this wasn’t highly suspicious at all, was it.

“Duly noted on the ginger…,” Dean hesitated and shifted his hips slightly, his eyes narrowing as though trying to work out whether he’d heard something from the other room. “... conditions,” he finished, slightly bewildered.

What the fuck was that? The thing hadn’t grown in size - this was a piece of damned ginger after all, it didn’t have much of a reputation for sudden growth spurts - but there was definitely something odd happening that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Dean glanced up at his brother in question and there was still an amused look on his brother’s face, and a look in Sam’s eye that spoke of fascination. Oh, fuck.

“Sammy..?” he shifted his hips again. Heat. It was getting hotter in his ass, and he circled his hips again as though it might help cool it off. Needless to say it didn’t, and quite frankly did exactly the opposite. Warm turned to hot. Hot turned to uncomfortable. And this was a weird type of heat that seemed to turn the ache into his groin that Sam had so carefully generated into something that was impossible to ignore.

“ nngh…!” Dean was half tempted to grind his lower half against the bed for a bit of stimulation. 

“You said you wouldn’t move, Dean.” Sam gave him a winning smile and Dean had a sudden urge to test out spanking options on him, _hard_ , and possibly with numerous different items. Apparently his opinion was pretty clear on his face as Sam’s grin widened a little. “And you also said you’d be respectful.”

“You’re a fucking piece of work, _sir_.” Dean spat out, and groaned weakly as the ginger found a whole new level of lava. “What the fuck is it doing to me?!”

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly harmless.”

“Fucking disagree!” Dean had to force himself to avoid moving his hips and whined again, an angry and desperate noise.

“It’s pretty much the same as putting chilli on sensitive areas, except it’s got a more impressive lasting time and seems to add more to the arousal hit. Oh, and it’s less likely to get lost in your ass,” Sam added helpfully. Dean shot him a look that promised that his little brother was going to be strung up and disemboweled before breakfast, before he closed his eyes again and shuddered. Fuck. 

“I want to punch you, and I really, _really_ want to fuck you.” he snarled, and then paused and looked horrified. “Jesus! What is this stuff doing to me?!” 

No wonder the fucking gingerbread man was running away, it was probably heading to a really massive orgy.

Sam chuckled. “You’re just really horny, Dean.”

“I’m always really horny!” Dean exploded. “I’ve never wanted that!” 

“You’re doing really well,” Sam seemed completely unaffected by Dean’s murderous tones, relaxing back against the headboard as he watched his brother squirm.

“You can shove your peptalk up your ass and bite me.” Dean snarled back. 

“And people say you’re not romantic.” Sam chuckled softly, leaning forward and gently cupping Dean’s face, smoothing the ball of his thumb across the rise of Dean’s cheekbone. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”

Dean whined pitifully. If he put his groin against the mattress he was pretty sure it would catch on fire. Sam smiled again gently, stroking his cheekbone again and clearly enjoying himself and Dean had another couple of flashed suggestions in his head that were either fucking or be fucked, he didn’t care, he just needed the stimulation and -

“Good boy.” purred Sam. “Just another ten minutes to go and I’ll take it out again.”

_“?!!?”_ Ten minutes?! He couldn’t even find some words. Right at that point, Dean would have done anything. Sam stroked him again and Dean focused on that, the pleased look in his brother’s eyes and not the burning sensation that apparently appealed directly to his perversion buttons.

“It normally calms down a bit after a while, the same way as you get used to the spice in a hot curry.” Sam advised. “Unfortunately you’re just really horny and it’s given you that boost, although I gotta admit it’s working better than it normally does.”

And who had made him that horny? Bastard. _Bastard!_ There was no such thing as a free hand job, clearly. Dean whined again and panted softly, his body still shifting and fidgeting through the sensations despite the fact that his hands and knees remained anchored at all times. Someone either fuck him or kill him, because this was fucking torture

It was a long ten minutes. Finally, _finally_ , Sam pushed himself up and gently eased the ginger root from Dean’s body. Dean sagged a little, but the burning was still there, still conscious and he glanced around and gave Sam a pitiful look. Sam laughed softly and gently patted his backside.

“It’s okay, it’ll calm down gradually.” 

_GRADUALLY?!_ Sam was going to die. Die slowly. Dean bit his lip and snarled again, but yeah, he could slowly feel things calming down a bit. His poor backside. It wasn’t in the best state to start off with, and Dean suddenly realised that this little show was exactly on the day when Sam wasn’t expecting to have to put his cock inside him and therefore didn’t have to share the ginger juice. Oh, very sneaky.

Dean was about to roar something when Sam got in the last word yet again, although it wasn’t so much a word as it was an underhanded but oh so fucking good touch; the firm confident hand was back and it was barely a few strokes before Dean came hard, crying out loud enough that a room noise complaint was probably in their near distant future and having to put all his effort into keeping upright as he shuddered through his release.

Fuck it.

Flopping down and rolling to avoid the wet spot, Dean groaned weakly. Still burning but much lower now his groin had been sated, and he was beginning to remember how to think rather than just go through all the possibilities of torturing Sam. Blinking, he lifted his head and sought out his brother who was watching him in interest.

“Here.” Sam handed over a bottle of whiskey and placed a glass on the side table just in case Dean was planning to be civilised. He wasn’t. The whiskey was opened and several mouthfuls taken before Sam had even sat down on the bed.

Sam opened his mouth to speak and Dean raised a finger.

“If you ask me whether I’m okay I swear to god I’m going to beat your ass from now until next week.” he warned. Sam grinned.

“Duly noted. Then, anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Dean growled softly, shuffled himself into a vaguely comfortable sitting position and took a few more mouthfuls of whiskey. Oh yeah, this whole thing was going to kill him. Still, he could think of worse ways to go.

“No,” he said finally. “But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m definitely the one pissing on you in the shower.”

But from the look on Sam’s face, he wasn’t entirely sure his brother agreed. Still, that was a fight for tomorrow. Tonight? Tonight was whiskey. 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

In the end they left it another couple of days before trying anything further. This, of course, bothered Dean. He was sexually impatient at the best of times, let alone when he was excessively aroused, bored and forbidden to touch himself. Every so often Sam could see his brother glare at him for crimes against the natural order of things, but he didn’t care. Truth be told, it was a little fun.

Finally Dean broke the silence by marching in on Thursday afternoon wearing a determined expression and brandishing a full bag of shopping which he slammed on the desk. Sam looked up with a frown and then gently shut the laptop with a delicate click.

“Yes?” 

“Oh, don’t give me that!” 

Sam paused, and rewound some of their last conversations just in case he’d missed an argument somewhere. But no, things had been relatively smooth, barring Dean’s habit of pacing every so often. Last thing he recalled, Dean had vanished off to top up the supplies, which Sam had assumed translated into something wet and alcoholic. The bag on the desk suggested otherwise.

He studied the bag and then looked up at a clearly wound up Dean.

“Rough shopping trip?” he hazarded a guess.

“I got the stuff.”

Sam blinked. “Could you elaborate on ‘stuff’?”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re well aware of what we need,” 

“Definitely, but I didn’t think they sold sanity in a shop.” Sam replied with a small grin, then sighed when his brother didn’t even twitch in a positive way. Okay, fine. “And what do we need, Dean?”

“And stop talking to me like I’m eight!” Dean folded his arms and glowered further. Sam watched him thoughtfully, one finger tapping on the desk, before he pulled the bag toward him and carefully opened it. An eyebrow rose. A bottle of lube. Some chocolate sauce some enterprising person had labelled ‘body paint’ onto. Some delicate rope in a fetching purple colour which turned out to be either silk or satin or something sensual. And a small bullet shaped item that Sam reckoned would probably vibrate if you twisted it.

A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth. Well, Dean was keen. Hell, he looked partly like he’d picked up a drug habit and was onto withdrawal, and that was worth the seemingly hours Sam had spent in a cold shower trying to tell his own body to calm down. 

“You want to finish the job, huh?” Sam lifted his gaze and fixed it on Dean who stared back determinedly.

“Yeah. I do.” he stepped forward. “My ass is fine, my cock is really, _really_ hard, and there’s no reason why we can’t just get on with it.”

Sam watched him. Dean hesitated and a faintly grudging look entered his eyes.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” another pause and of course he ruined it. “Your _lordship_.”

“Which bit of the sarcasm screams sexy to you?” Sam sighed, although it didn’t necessarily stop the suggestion from being a good idea. He’d been considering it himself - mostly every ten minutes but who was counting - but he had a horrible feeling they’d end up with awkward trips to ER if they got too excitable with Dean already in a bruised state. “Patience makes perfect.”

“Patience makes frustration.” Dean folded his arms stubbornly. “I told you before, I’m not begging for this.”

Sam looked at him.

“Hey, this is not begging, this is complaining.” Dean added sulkily. “C’mon, Sammy. I know you want to get on with it too, I’ve seen the look on your face whenever I take off my shirt.”

So that was the reason why Dean had been taking his shirt off quite so often; it had got to the point where Sam had suspected his brother was allergic to the washing powder. Still, Dean wasn’t wrong. The older Winchester was a walking distraction at the best of times, let alone with added nipples. Sam had had to have yet another cold shower when his brother decided to add some resistance exercises to the mix.

“You got any preferences?” Sam sat back on his chair and gently picked up the vibrating bullet, playing with it in his hand idly. 

“Hard. Fast.” Dean’s eyes gleamed hungrily. 

“Pretty sure we’ve done that, although that does sound tempting.” Sam was lying, that sounded good enough that his groin ached with all the power of a toothache meeting a sweet. The bullet was rotated a little more, allowing him to focus on what his hands were doing rather than a rebellious body. It was stupid, really. He could happily grab hold of Dean and pin him against the wall, oh so easy to do and that much better if he resisted - which he would - but still, he loved the flavour of controlling his brother even if it put them through hell to do so.

“So…elaborate rope play?” Sam guessed. “And.. uh, what’s the sauce for?”

“Flavour.” Dean shrugged. “Anything is improved with chocolate.”

And that was probably debatable, but Sam didn’t really want to explore those areas. He looked down at the shopping again and then up at Dean’s expression, his brother looking all the world like a dog desperately trying not to show how excited it was with the prospect of a walk. Sam grinned, and rotated the little vibrator between his fingers again.

“I don’t really care whether we do something with the rope.” Dean added. “It was just there in the store and I thought it might be useful. I mean, all of our stuff is intended to keep people tied up, not make sure they’re happy at the same time. In fact, if they are happy then we’ve probably done it wrong.”

Sam had to concede the point, still playing with the little vibrator in his hands, twirling it idly as though it was the world’s smallest and most dubious baton. 

“And thinking on it, we’ve probably used it a bit too much already in day to day life for it to count.” Dean was apparently in a chatty mood which normally suggested he was anxious about something. Verbal diarrhea had nothing on Dean when he was nervous, and normally landed him in even more trouble than he started off as.

“So.” Dean concluded.

Sam ran his tongue delicately over his bottom lip and studied his brother who was giving him the intensive Dean Winchester look that normally only turned up when they were in the last life and death battles with something nasty and toothy. Perhaps they were, kink could be dramatic at times.

It was tempting, oh so tempting. But this was a job as much as any other, and they owed it to the townsfolk to treat it with the seriousness that it - 

Sam grinned internally. Oh, fuck it. Who would know?

“So,” Sam repeatedly softly, and slowly rose from the chair to prowl deliberately toward his brother. Dean grinned a lop-sided grin and managed to yank off the majority of his clothing quicker than a whippet with a bum full of dynamite, throwing it to one side before seizing hold of Sam’s shirt and pulling him into a hot and messy kiss. Sam allowed him about half a minute of embrace before he growled softly in the back of his throat and put his full weight into shoving Dean back hard against the thankfully trinket free wall behind him with a soft thud. Surprised green eyes stared at him in faint shock before Dean recovered, grinned again wolfishly and met Sam’s mouth once more hungrily.

Fuck, he could happily stay here forever, their mouths meeting, each joustling for control and panting for oxygen whenever they broke off; Sam was thankful for his extra height as he pinned his brother to the wall, one thigh pressing hard against Dean’s to keep him in place and his forearm deliberately across Dean’s chest and so very close to his windpipe as he continued the kiss.

Finally they had to stop for a short moment, if nothing more than to restock the oxygen supply before they passed out. Dean tried to push away from the wall and found himself slammed back again, a look of surprise and then faint irritation crossing his expression before turning slightly sly. Sam smiled fondly. His big brother, the ever optimistic escape artist.

“I was thinking,” Sam said idly, adding a little more force to Dean’s chest as his brother tried to bounce out of the position again. “We could try your breath play thing.”

Dean almost stopped breathing, which was slightly premature of him, and scanned Sam’s eyes warily. Sam kept his expression typical evil villain which was his standard one when dealing with Dean, but was watching carefully. Was this a good idea? Probably not. Dean never went for anything lightly, and although a shorter lifespan was almost inevitable, Sam was pretty sure he’d want it for ‘saving the world’ or something rather than ‘erotic accident’. 

Still, his brother had such wonderfully pleading eyes when he wanted to. Sam purred softly at the back of his throat and tipped his head to one side as he tried to assess his brother’s mood. Of course the traditional thing was to _talk_ , but Sam knew far too well from experience that what came out of Dean’s mouth didn’t necessarily bear any relation to reality, especially if it might come across vulnerable. Cocky ego could not stand such a thing.

“Still interested, big brother?” Sam purred, and let his forearm slide upward, pressing oh so gently over Dean’s throat at the same time as his leg moved to press against Dean’s groin. There was another little wriggle from Dean, enough that Sam had to add extra force but nowhere near the level of strength that Dean could muster if he genuinely wanted to go anywhere. But that was Dean’s thing, as far as Sam could see. The flavour was enhanced by the game.

“Can’t hear you.” Sam pointed out, and that was a genuine instruction. Dean growled softly then snorted softly in laughter.

“Yeah.” his eyes were calm but couldn’t quite hide the excitement. “I’m in.”

Sam purred softly and pressed another kiss to Dean’s mouth, feather light, before he smiled again and pressed against Dean’s lower half again with enough pressure that he could hear the soft whimper in his brother’s throat. Dean had such expressive eyes, whether that be rage or pleading or childlike glee. Currently they were hovering around the playful angry-desire mark, and that was a good place for them to be.

“Well, let’s try this,” Sam said softly, and he could see the wary anticipation take over as chief emotion as Dean waited. The look of shock as Sam’s other hand gently squeezed him through the fabric of the boxers was so perfect, Dean slamming back against the wall as he stared incredulously back at him.

“Shhh,” Sam put more effort in pinning Dean to the wall, his hand expertly finding a rhythm to stroke his brother as his arm moved a little further up to press warningly against Dean’s windpipe. There was a soft growl, a small push back before Dean closed his eyes. His breathing was already shaky, body responding perfectly to each movement as only an overly frustrated body could.

Wasn’t much longer before Sam pressed a little harder on his brother’s throat, feeling the instinctual movement to fight and then Dean’s deliberate decision to admit defeat.

“Stay put,” Sam advised, mostly to have something to say. It seemed wrong to just try to throttle in silence, although that was probably being too accustomed to Dean providing a running commentary. Saying that, Dean was doing a great job at showing him exactly what was happening; Sam could see muscles tensing slightly, a nervous shiver working its way through Dean’s body as his oxygen started to dip, but it wasn’t until Dean opened his eyes and stared back with a mix of pleading and trust that Sam really felt it.

Not too long, though. Sam released the hold and Dean gasped, sagging against him as he sucked in air and forced his muscles to calm. Sam chuckled softly and allowed his brother to rest his forehead against his shoulder for a moment to recover, his hand still stroking but oh so lightly, to remind rather than torment.

“Doing okay?”

“Ngh.” Dean replied, but pushed himself up and offered Sam the sleepiest grin that he’d seen out of Dean outside of heavy whiskey drinking sessions. Okay, that was probably a ‘yes’ then. He also wasn’t fond of the break Sam was insisting on, pressing into Sam after a few minutes and pressing a couple of hot kisses to his neck like a drunk vampire.

Sam gently but firmly pushed him back against the wall, and earned himself a sulky scowl in the process.

“Steady.” he warned.

Probably the quietest he’d heard Dean for a while. Sam shifted his hold, moving to cup Dean’s neck with his hand and slowly increasing the pressure. One of Dean’s hands grabbed hold of Sam’s automatically but it was all for show, their eyes locked as Sam held the hold for a few more seconds, scanning his brother’s eyes, looking for any signs that he wanted it to finish, and fuck, he looked good like that. Innocent. Vulnerable. _Quiet_. But mostly vulnerable.

Dean made a soft noise in his throat that Sam felt more than he heard, slowly releasing his hold again and meeting Dean’s mouth as he all but fell on him hungrily. Sam’s hand closed on his brother’s length, earning a squeak but failed to stop the onslaught from eager and frustrated elder Winchester. 

Onslaught found a whole new angle as Dean added extra strength to the mix, compliant at first and then grabbing hold of his arm and shoving Sam face first against the wall. Recovering his breath, Sam hesitated as he felt his brother press against his back, Dean’s breath in his ear and the heat of his groin pressed hard against his ass. 

For a moment, time stood still as they both waited for what the other was about to do. 

Sam himself had no idea which way he wanted this to go. Most of him was waiting for an opportunity to pounce back on his wayward brother, but there was a sizeable chunk definitely interested in the alternative. Sam gently pressed back against the strength of Dean’s body, a little pointedly. Either piss or get off the pot, although to be fair that was probably a dangerous sentiment to go with considering Dean’s other suggested kinks.

Dean still didn’t do anything, and Sam felt another hard longing twinge as apparently his body placed its vote toward the experiment. A gentle nuzzle against his neck and ear, Dean softly purring as he finally ground slowly against Sam’s still clothed ass. Sam growled softly back but that too was for show, knowing that whatever this was would stop immediately if his brother felt he was taking advantage.

He wasn’t sure what to do either. There was a solid fabric barrier between them, mostly on Sam’s side, and he was fairly certain Dean needed the chaotic momentum of ‘going with the moment’ rather than calculation. Trying to get said fabric off without messing stuff up was a party trick that Sam felt sure he didn’t possess, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wistfully hope for it. The solid form of his brother was still against his back, Dean pressing a couple of small kisses and nips to Sam’s neck and nuzzling into the crook, but that seemed as far as he was willing to go. And that really was frustrating.

Forced with few choices, Sam decided to grab the need while it still existed and hope he didn’t scare off his brother by doing so.

“Do it,” he murmured back. Nothing. Dean hadn’t moved away but no progression at all. Sam circled his hips slightly and faintly impatiently, deliberately pressing against Dean and feeling his brother shudder faintly in response. Yeah, he was still eager but something was stopping him and Sam was fired up enough that he was prepared to rip whatever it was to shreds if it got Dean reactive again.

“Dean. C’mon.”

Still nothing. It was like his brother had been turned to ice, still blinking but unable to move. Sam gave him another couple of minutes before pushing himself backward from the wall a little, trying to jump-start him.

“Cut it out,” Dean finally spoke, a soft and slightly confused growl.

“Are you going to do anything or just stay there the whole day?” Sam countered back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”

“Bullshit,” Sam put in extra effort and pushed himself from the wall, twisting in order to face Dean properly. “What’s going on?”

The discomfort was blatant, Dean glaring at him for a moment before swearing softly to himself and pacing back to the bed. Sam sent up a prayer for any god like creature to give him patience, and folded his arms. Falling at the first fence? Even when that happened Dean normally pretended otherwise. 

“I.. can’t.”

Sam digested that for a moment. “Why not?” he frowned.

“It’s just not right.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean growled again and shook his head. “Shouldn’t even be thinking this crap. God, I’m a bad person.”

Clearly the gods and/or god like things were not in a prayer answering mood. Sam pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm down before releasing them again. Okay. It was reasonable to get a little bit spooked by the whole situation, but jesus, _now_? Amazing how Dean’s reluctance never turned up when it was Sam’s turn to be the main pervert.

“Dean, if you’re ‘bad’ from just thinking of fucking me, what does that make me? I’ve fucked you several times now. Hell, I’ve even licked your ass and beaten you!” Sam kept his voice as reasonable as he could under the circumstances.

“That doesn’t count.”

“ _Yes, it does._ ” Sam snapped, moving to sit on the bed and giving him a hard stare. “Stop beating yourself up over this. Partly because that’s clearly my job, and partly because you’re being a fucking idiot.”

“Story of my life.” 

“Go on, then. Why? Why are you different to me?”

“You’re my baby brother! I spent our entire lives looking after you! And unless the babysitting manual is really out of touch, sexual fun and games definitely isn’t on the list!” Dean exploded in all the wrong ways, waving a hand in gesture. “You look up to me!”

Sam snorted a laugh, then stopped when he realised Dean was serious.

“We are different people, Dean. I love you, and you know that. But I’m not keeping you to different rules here,” Sam gently pushed his hip. “This is you keeping yourself miserable because you can’t think of a better option.”

“And you can?” Dean scowled.

“Sure, and there’s a lot of lube involved.”

“No.” Dean snarled. Sam held up his hands and then pushed himself off the bed.

“Fine. Whatever you say.” Wasn’t going to force him, although Sam couldn’t quite keep the snap out of his voice. Whatever guilt Dean had was going to strangle him significantly better than Sam ever could. Didn’t make it any the more frustrating though; so the damned thing was fine as long as Dean pretended that he wasn’t taking any active movements towards it? Sam didn’t like being a scapegoat at the best of times, let alone being a sexual one.

The silence in the room wasn’t entirely comfortable. Hell, it wasn’t comfortable at all. Sam scowled and paced back and forth in the room, his annoyance and his arousal biting at each other and reducing his pleasantness down to a smaller pool. Amazing how his brother treated him like a baby even at the most idiotic times possible. Couldn’t get fucked, oh no, but more than happy for him to do the fucking. Did that make Dean some sort of sexual training wheels? 

He knew Dean wanted it. Wanted _him_. He could understand guilt, but Jesus christ it was frustrating as hell.

“And that is an understatement.” 

And that wasn’t Dean. Sam’s eyes closed wearily. Fantastic. Another asshole to add to his collection. 

“Haven’t you got _anything_ better to do than watch us?” Sam couldn’t stop the words leaving his mouth, although to be fair he wasn’t sure that he’d wanted to even if he could. There was a soft pft from the corner of the room.

“Honestly? Not much. Not this much fun _if_ you two actually did stuff! You’re almost getting into opera levels of moping.” the Trickster wandered further into the room and picked up the chocolate sauce bottle, tilting it slightly as he watched the goo move before waggling it toward Sam. “And I warn you now, if I get even a whiff of a fat lady about to start singing I will officially be incredibly fucked off.”

“Seriously don’t give a shit,” that was Dean from his own corner, words covered with enough bitterness that they were probably spikey. 

“Awww. I forgot he was still sulking.” the Trickster had started tossing the bottle from one hand to the other idly. “Has he not had a nap today, or is his diaper wet?”  
Sam didn’t need to look in Dean’s direction to know the expression his brother would be wearing. He could feel the death glare already.

“It’s been a rough few days.” Another understatement there. For days lacking things that actively wanted to turn them into kibble, they were definitely strenuous on many levels.

“Mm.” The bottle continued to move in a slightly disappointing juggling move. “Anything I can do to assist your little funk?”

“Oh, I have plenty of suggestions,” still dangerous, and definitely leaning into the Dean Winchester suicide hour. Sam groaned softly to himself and shot his brother a little look.

“Dean, if I wanted you to talk then.. No, I can’t finish that sentence, there’s no time I’d want you to talk.” the Trickster sighed. “Honestly boys, you probably needed to do more of that spanking.. Wait, did you actually do it or just argue about it? Damn. That’s a genuine opportunity lost. Well, better luck next time.”

“ _Next time_?” Well, at least Dean was talking, Sam guessed. Probably better than him moping in a corner. The Trickster shot Dean a little smile.

“Don’t give me that. You’re both adorable.”

“No. This is a one time only situation,” Dean waved a finger as though this might in some way add to his argument. It didn’t. The Trickster looked amused.

“That is _extra_ adorable, Dean, we really should be making films here. That big rough tough exterior and inside you’re all..,” a flicker of a smile. “Well, we both know what’s in there, don’t we?”

Sam stepped between his almost nuclear brother and the current threat, who was leaning against the desk with his arms folded and a look of thoughtfulness across his features.

“Okay. We’re as keen as you are to get this done.”

“And yet you’re arguing. Again.” there was a sigh. “You see, this is why they say don’t work with siblings or animals.”

“That’s not what they say.” Sam said cautiously.

“No? Well, they should, it’s a pain in the ass,” The Trickster shuddered. “And not the fun type, either.”

Sam could almost feel Dean’s tension behind him and adjusted his position to ensure maximum shielding between them, not entirely sure who he was protecting. There was another small fond smile that flickered on the Trickster’s face at that before he gave another soft and slightly dramatic sigh.

“Adorable,” he murmured to himself and then stretched lazily as he pushed himself off from the desk. Sam shifted position as well to block Dean who apparently took this sign of athleticism as a personal insult, trying to step past his brother in his course of.. Well, Sam wasn’t sure what Dean had planned but it was probably violent and ill-prepared. 

“Why are you here?” Dean demanded. “This whole fucked up situation is your fault.”

“The situation, sure, but give yourself credit. A lot of your fucked up ness is pure Winchester.” there was a soft drawl but the Trickster’s gaze seemed to be fixed on Sam curiously, before another ‘pft’ and the creature turned away. “I’m here because you’re not doing your job, Dean sweetheart.”

Fists clenched harder. “Why, you fucking-,”

“Uh, we do have an extra week to go.” Sam cut in, grabbing hold of his brother’s arm as Dean tried to barge through and pulling him back. “Plenty of time to finish it off. Just need one more, don’t we?”

“Something like that.” The Trickster’s gaze fell on the fury of Dean thoughtfully. “You know, I’m not the reason you’re pretty much spitting tacks here. You could use this time for personal reflection.”

“I’m gonna shove a blade so far up your ass you could use it as a fucking toothpick,” Dean snarled.

“Or, of course, you could use it for cursing and threats,” there was another sigh, completely unruffled by Dean’s comments, before another little warm smile at Sam. “I like you. You’re just as fucked up as your brother, but in a more constructive way.”

“Uh. Thanks.” 

“And you’re very cute.”

Sam wasn’t sure where this was leading but he had a sudden urge to guard his rear for many reasons. The Trickster rolled his eyes and pft’ed again before making the possibly unwise move to close the gap between them. Sam’s grip on his brother’s arm grew tight enough that it probably hurt, not that Dean was anywhere near caring right at that point.

“Sammy,” his name was drawled out long and slow. “Don’t fret so, I’m a very nice person when you get to know me.”

“Take one more step closer and I’ll-,”

“You’ll _what_ , Dean? Please, tell the class. We’re all dying to know.” The Trickster smiled at him. “Well, hopefully not literally. That would make a terrible stain on the rug, although I guess you boys have already got stains covered.”

Sam’s hand tightened even further, having to step back to use his body as a human shield to stop the clearly furious Dean. Sam’s eyes narrowed. There was clearly a point to all this, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t some sort of erotic pick up. 

“What are you doing?” he asked slowly.

The Trickster opened his hands as though an olde tyme prophet beseeching the lord. “Me? Merely paying you a compliment.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed a little further. Compliment it might be, but that was just smoke and mirrors. The point had to be something to do with Dean and his current rage, but all it did was make him harder to handle and more unpredictable. Who the hell wanted Dean like that, unless they were planning to aim him at their enemies or just let him mess up his own life? Well, at least they weren’t fighting each other anymore, he guessed.

… wait.

He looked up only to find the Trickster watching him with a slightly proud expression, like a father pleased with his child’s science project.

“Who’s a clever boy, Sammy.” 

“Touch him and I’m going to rip off your head and spit down your throat,” That was Dean again, still guns blazing and protective streak so hot it could fry potatoes. The Trickster glanced at him carelessly before looking back at Sam and deliberately running his gaze down Sam’s form with an expression, although blatantly exaggerated, that spoke a little too strongly about how much personal experience said creature had. 

“Mm. A sweet gesture, but I’m going to decline on the basis that a lack of head makes alcohol that much harder to enjoy,” 

However, it was fairly certain that the Trickster had achieved what he wanted. Dean’s full protective streak was in high mode, and it was still taking everything that Sam had in order to keep him where he was. There was another pleased look at Sam before the Trickster strolled toward the other side of the room as carelessly as one daydreaming about clouds.

“One more activity to deactivate the box, boys, and then we’ll go our separate ways.” he tossed over his shoulder, a little wave of the hand. “What should it be, I wonder? There’s still that spanking you teased me with earlier and failed to deliver, you’ve both been very naughty boys on numerous occasions. Or the water sports, although I’m not sure even you can make that photogenic. Perhaps something with ropes-,”

A snap of the fingers and a hook suddenly magicked itself into the ceiling at an appropriate height for someone to be held by the wrists. 

“- although that might be a little too much like the day job, as would blood and knife play. Honestly, boys, you do make options so very difficult. Perhaps some lingerie .. although again, not something _new_ is it, Dean? Needles are right out, that gives me the shivers. Ugh.”

Sam was pleased to find that his brother had moved from High Alert to Pretty Pissed Off But Getting Better, although Sam wasn’t stupid enough to let go of his arm.

“Perhaps we’re getting too extreme, too _aggressive_. Perhaps we should just have a touching oral moment, hm? Or play around with some cock rings-,” there was another snap and Sam had a horrible feeling something had just appeared in his jeans pocket. “-or possibly-,”

And good god this had to stop before they got into some really weird stuff. 

“Appreciate the suggestions-,”

“Like fuck we do,” muttered Dean behind him. Sam ignored him, and offered another winning smile.

“-but we’ll handle it from here.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a couple of times and yet here we still are.” The Trickster replied pointedly. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the fact you’ve managed to stretch it out for - what, five chapters now?-,”

“..what?” Sam frowned at him in confusion, but the Trickster wasn’t listening.

“-but you got to get over this little hump of yours.” 

“Thanks for the pep talk.” Dean growled again. “You want to fuck off now?”

“Oh, Dean. So fiesty.” the tone was light but there was a flash of irritation in the Trickster’s eyes and Sam was suddenly extremely conscious of what would happen if said creature _didn’t_ want to fuck off now. They were on the home run, it seemed crazy to potentially add additional blockers.

“It’s not going to be a problem.” Sam inserted as smoothly as he could, tightening his fingers on Dean’s arm in somewhat unsubtle warning. He could hear another soft growl but was relieved not to hear anything else. The Trickster eyed them for a moment, then gave another winning smile.

“Why Sam, what would I do without you?”

“Hopefully something a little less .. erotic.”

“Mm. I doubt it, but hope springs eternal and all that,” Sam was conscious of the Trickster running his gaze down Sam’s form and was suddenly very thankful for jeans. He was about to open his mouth and add something when he realised that the shadows were back to normal and had to shut it again with a little click. Honestly, would it kill creatures that just popped in and out of reality to have a little ‘ping’ noise when they did so?

Sighing softly he glanced back at Dean and slowly released his arm, suddenly realising how hard he’d been gripping him by the ache in his knuckles. His brother didn’t seem to care, still glaring toward the corner that the Trickster had vanished as though he was a dog ensuring that a passing strange car was just going to keep driving.

“I hate the idea we’re performing for him.” Dean growled softly as he moved back to the bed and sank down on it. Sam moved back to the bed and settled down to him, feeling ridiculously overdressed next to his mostly naked brother who was still clad in his boxers and very little else.

“I know.” Sam clasped his brother on the knee and tried to cheer him up with a smile. Dean glanced at him briefly, huffed a soft laugh and looked down at the floor. There was another silence, but at least this one was companionable and finally Dean spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to upset you before.” his voice was much softer than before, a low murmur in the room. “It’s just.. I don’t know. A hurdle I’m not able to cross. It’s not a statement on what you can and can’t take, and it’s not a statement that you’re bad in any way.”

Well, that was reasonable, he guessed.

“Guess it’s a hurdle that most people wouldn’t want to cross.” Which begged the question why he’d managed to vault over it without too much hassle, but Sam didn’t really want to think on that. Their relationship was already pretty close, dangerously so probably. Out of all the possibilities, the deal was probably the lesser of many evils, albeit probably the stickier one.

The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “Yeah, would imagine that sleeping with your brother isn’t normally on the Well Adjusted Individual’s list of stuff to do.”

Sam sat quietly and was pleased to feel his brother gently lean against him; once upon a time it had been Sam to do the leaning, but time and growth rates had altered the mix. Placing an arm around him, Sam pulled him into a light hug and pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

“Worse? It doesn’t feel wrong anymore.” Dean added, slowly. “There’s a block in fucking you, yeah, but the rest of it? Just feels like a normal relationship with someone I like. I have to actively tell myself that it’s fucked up.”

Sam held the silence for a little while before reluctantly asking the question that had been nagging away at him. “D’you think we’ll be able to get back to normal after this?”

“Fuck Sammy, I lost track of ‘normal’ a while back.” Dean sighed, and closed his eyes. “Honestly? I doubt it.”

Depressing but probably right. Sam sighed softly. “Mm.”

“Nothing changes between us though, right?” Dean’s voice was fierce. “This is just an additional physical thing. Doesn’t change how you and me work together.”

“What, live, laugh, bitch, complain, fight, love, fuck?” Sam offered another grin.

“You missed out sulk, but yeah. Oh, and cheeseburgers.”

“Cheeseburgers aren’t a verb.”

“Well, they should be. Essential for wellbeing. People should cheeseburg more often.” Dean had been leaning closer, nestled up, and Sam once again regretted the fact that his clothing was determined to keep them apart. It wasn’t even a sex thing, it was just closeness, the warmth of skin on skin comfort. Apparently Dean was regretting the same thing as Sam found Dean twisting slightly, cupping his hand behind Sam’s head to bring him in for a slow, light kiss.

“If we’re damned, we’re damned.” Dean murmured. “Let’s just enjoy it for tonight and flog ourselves tomorrow, okay? With my hurdle in place.”

“Hurdle remains untouched.” Sam promised, shifting positions and slowly pulling off clothing as Dean pulled off his boxers and settled himself back on the bed. Crawling over and feeling a little like a big cat investigating its kill, Sam stared down at the surprisingly peaceful form of his brother for a moment before pressing another gentle kiss on his mouth. And this really was weird. No fighting, no insults, no scratches down his back, just Dean waiting and willing and trusting. Their bodies met, mouths finding each other immediately as hands traced over smooth powerful muscles and scars. 

Breaking off the kiss they studied each other for a moment again before Dean lifted his hips slightly and raised an eyebrow in invitation, still keeping his brother’s gaze. Sam stared at him quizzically for a moment, remembering how much more relaxed Dean normally was when he didn’t have to actually see the sexual acts between them. Dean sighed, offered a small understanding grin, and leaned to one side in order to fish out a bottle of lube.

Sam caught it as it was tossed to him. Well, okay. Temptation accepted.

A few seconds later and lube had been applied, Sam leaning over to kiss him again as his fingers gently slid between Dean’s legs. His brother still wasn’t speaking, a novel situation at the best of times, but there was a familiar cocky glint to his eyes and a smile was playing at the corner of his mouth when the kiss broke. Dean’s hips nudged upwards encouragingly, a soft purr and a hungry look as Sam settled himself between Dean’s legs and lined up.

Looking up, he met Dean’s gaze again. A slight tilt of the head and another soft encouraging smile. Okay.

He’d fucked a reasonable amount of people but sleeping with Dean was always an experience unto itself. Sam groaned softly as he pressed in, feeling Dean’s muscles automatically resist for a moment before they slowly and grudgingly allowed him entry. Still damned tight though, a velvet heat that gripped him in all the right places and Sam forced himself to take it as slow as possible to avoid hurting his brother. 

Dean himself looked like he was on some sort of yoga course; head tipped back slightly, his throat bared and tempting - why Sam focused on that he had no idea, perhaps he was part werewolf - and his eyes closed in concentration, he looked innocent and all but sacrificial. His arms were spread across the bedroom, fingers dug into the mattress and breathing steady and controlled. 

And finally he was fully sheathed, groin pressed to Dean and feeling every little shudder, every movement, hell, every _heartbeat_ as his brother softly whined about the intrusion under his breath. Waiting for him to recover enough for movement to be welcomed rather than fought was damned hard but well enough it, and Sam was rewarded as Dean finally opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him in question.

Oh, and that was an invite he was not intending to reject.

Getting his hands in the right place to lift and support Dean’s hips, Sam began to move. It was slow at first, still conscious of Dean’s body needing to adapt to a sizeable invader, but growing in strength and speed as soon as Dean was hungrily looking for more. Sam bit his lip and tried to focus as he set the rhythm, slow, strong and hard, enough for the bed to start creaking in time and Dean to grunt softly at each impact. 

Sam groaned. Damned beautiful. Dean was working with him as best he could, rocking in time and adding extra depth whenever Sam was trying to restrain himself. Muscles gripped him harder as he worked, his thrusts growing in strength and power and speed until Sam couldn’t focus on anything else. Trying desperately to fight down his growing release, he found himself betrayed by his brother as Dean added his own spice to the mix, deliberately increasing the friction and power and giving him a cocky mischievous grin as he did so. Sam growled softly and returned it with a warning look of his own, but it was all teeth and no bite and Dean quite rightly ignored the fuck out of it.

He hadn’t realised he was at the ‘one last thrust’ stage until he was there; a perfect thrust that just pushed the pleasure over a cliff, his body stiffening like a board before all but collapsing as he came deep within his brother. Panting, exhausted, feeling like he’d just been dragged into some full body exercise course, Sam slowly slipped out and all but flopped next to Dean on the bed with his arm draped across Dean’s stomach.

“Mmmpgh.” the noise was muffled by the mattress. Apparently this was not a problem for Dean who chuckled and rolled slightly to improve their placement, nestling up and running his hand across Sam’s flank.

“Y’got me messy again.”

“..sorry..,” The word was still muffled, and needless to say completely insincere. Dean squirmed closer, pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder and groaned lazily.

“Man, I feel like a truck’s just used me as a tunnel,” he shifted his hips lazily and yawned widely. Sam grinned into the mattress. Perhaps there was something in the whole cat thing. Shifting himself, Sam nuzzled into Dean’s neck and breathed in his brother’s scent, the clean smell of sweat, and the faint musk of sex. 

“You want me to finish you?” he asked softly, his hand sliding across Dean’s chest and stomach. 

“... in a bit. Sleepy..,” Dean yawned again, looking all the world like a kid again. Sam smiled and gently pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling his brother closer protectively. He was going to ask whether he was okay, but he doubted whether Dean’s mind was able to comprehend the words enough to offer an answer that was more complex than ‘yes’ or ‘no’. And he was pretty damned certain that the answer was yes.

Sam was also about to say he was going for a shower when he realised that Dean had already fallen asleep, curled up with an innocent look that was one step away from having a thumb in his mouth. Huffing a soft laugh and resigning himself to cleaning once Dean could be gently rolled away without waking him up, Sam glanced across the room and paused, frowning, at the gentle light that was emanating from the desk.

A pink light, no less. 

“Really?” Sam murmured incredulously, then laughed to himself. Well, what was unusual for one might not be the same for someone else. It was also a relief; there wasn’t a small part of him that had been wondering whether the whole box thing was an elaborate prank, persuading them to do weirder and more wonderful things for no damned reason whatsoever.

The tips of his fingers idly ran over his brother’s skin again, feather light and not even achieving a sleepy noise. It was over and it still felt good, still felt _incredible_ , and Sam rested his head back against the mattress as he stared up at the ceiling. Would it last? He honestly didn’t know. Part of him wanted it to go back to how it was, sharing a room without wondering how it would look, able to glance at his brother without it being anything other than innocent, but then how feasible was that without constantly reminding themselves of what they’d done? But if they carried on… well, that was probably going to require a little awkward chat with Bobby before he discovered it by himself and made a massive song and dance over it. Get in the excuse early if you have one, he guessed, and they had plenty of time to work that one out. And then… yeah, then this might work out okay. Fucked up, but okay. In this life you grabbed what you could.

His own need for sleep was clouding his vision, Sam’s eyes slowly closing as he yawned and gently stroked his brother’s shoulder again. Refocusing on the ceiling, he was half aware that shadows seemed to make some words on the surface, but he was too far gone to really care. It was only when he woke up a little later that he realised what they’d said.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

Sam sighed tiredly. Yeah, the supernatural were bastards.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to those who have got through the whole thing and apologies for any rogue UK terms slipping in & general mistakes - still working my way through the series at a rip-roaring pace while it's on Prime (not Optimus, that would be abuse of robots). Will be tweaking tags as this didn't end up the way I'd expected. 
> 
> Now, on to something with Castiel...


End file.
